Devil's Little Face
by AmadErik
Summary: Erik and Christine are happily married but is their love for each other and the new family member strong enough to overcome fear, self - loathing and regret? Leroux - based
1. Chapter 1

_Devil's Little Face_

Chapter I.

He sat in his favorite armchair in the drawing room of his nice house he built himself for them after the wedding. He looked at the flames in the fireplace, but did not see them, he was so lost in his thoughts. He was squeezing a half full wine glass in his right hand but did not take a single sip of it. No one else was here with him in the salon, his sweet dear wife was in their bedroom, with the midwife. She was giving birth to their firstborn. It was the cold damp and foggy night of 1st November, rain was rhythmically knocking on the window. How nice is it to finally have a window on his home… his perfect home…

They have been married for 4 years now, something he could have never dreamed of. He should be happy, he really should be. His living wife seems to love him, especially in the last two and a half years, they took nice walks in the park on Sundays, he built a beautiful home and invented a new mask that covered his deformity and made him look like anybody else, just as he saw in his dreams. He was in a much better health than in that damp cellar and everything should have been fine.

Of course, this marriage had its downs as well, as anything on this Earth, especially at the beginning. Oh no, not because of Christine, dear. She was such a sweet girl. She tried her best to look at Erik as anyone normal looking. It was he, the problem. He was surprised she did not leave him the first few months after the wedding. Erik was so unstable at the beginning, he did not believe Christine really wanted to stay with him and tried to force her to leave him alone, to go back to the Viscount, he was cold and did not let her touch him or go near him for a time… then he was jealous, he threw temper tantrums, jealousy fits and he constantly had nightmares in the first few months.

Christine, however was so dear to him, she was comforting and loyal. She took his hand and talked soothing to him, and sympathetically rubbed his shoulder to make him relax a bit. Erik did not believe a woman can act with so much love for him. After his mother's coldness, he did not dare to hope someone could look past his face and be gentle and kind to him. Christine slowly got used to him within time and she did not even ask him to wear the mask at home any more.

After the kiss on the forehead, she sometimes could see past Erik's deformed face. The best way for this was to concentrate on only his voice. It was easier than she thought. Erik wasn't that a terrible man to be with as Christine imagined in those desperate days. Of course, Erik wasn't all wicked. He had his good side in him, he was caring, thoughtful, passionate (a bit much passionate sometimes…) and polite. After she showed the first sign of her love that wasn't based on pity or fear, he changed. She didn't believe he could, but he did change to the better, just as he promised her in that miserable and desperate moment when he tried to convince and force her into marriage. His temper tantrums reduced and finally, after a time, disappeared. He calmed down and became less likely to be jealous. He remained Erik, for sure, hot headed, sarcastic and he liked if he controlled the happenings, but he slowly got calmer and calmer within time.

Erik, he was ashamed to admit, but was really happy not to hear from de Chagny any more after Christine has returned to him and stated she will never ever leave his side. He did not know what has happened between Christine and Raoul after she left with the young man, but when she returned alone to the house by the lake, her eyes were red from crying, and she did not want to talk about the happenings between them, she only said they had a nasty quarrel that ended with a break up. De Chagny never tried to write to Christine any more, nor did he want to talk and he did not visit the Opera any more.

What was the matter then? The child. That little monster. It came to their lives as a thunder from the bright skies. The first warning sign was Christine's sudden intense love for lemonade. Oddly, she did not want to drink anything else. She explained that she desired sour flavor more for some reason. She did not want to have any kind of alcohol, even though she would enjoy a glass of good wine before, from time to time, just as Erik did. She said she did not like its taste any more. Then her stomach that bothered her, especially in the morning…, her sudden sickness for certain smells… And finally, on a nice Sunday stroll on a beautiful sunny April day she turned to Erik and asked:

\- Erik, do you like children?

\- If they are well – behaved and quiet, then I guess, I do. – he answered after a bit of pause.

\- And babies? – she continued.

\- Not really. – Erik admitted. – They are far too noisy and messy for Erik's taste.

\- Have you ever dreamed of having a family? – his dear wife pushed on the subject.

\- Christine, his dear Christine is Erik's family. – he answered with passion, kissing her hand.

\- And… don't you want a child, Erik? A child of your own…?

\- Why should I want one? I have everything I need, and a child was never in my plans. – he laughed shortly and shrugged.

\- Every family has at least one child, Erik.

\- Well, our family shall not. – Erik tried to close the subject, but Christine softly said:

\- But yes, Erik, it will… I am expecting it in the end of October.

\- What….? – Erik swallowed. He suddenly felt his cravat was too tight…

\- I am pregnant, Erik! We will be happy parents in a few months!

He did not remember anything else for a time. In five seconds or less, the world seemed to turn grayish, he felt dizzy and cold sweat was running down his face, his stomach turned, a shiver ran down on his spine and his hands were trembling… He had been told later, when he opened his eyes in his bed that he had fainted at the park and was carried home. The shock was too big for him to stay on his feet any longer. As he woke up and regained his consciousness, he believed it was just a nightmare, a hallucination. But he had to accept the fact that yes, it is indeed reality.

He disliked children. He did not have any good memories of children. They always made fun of him, mocked him, threw stones at him on the streets. And a baby in his perfect home…? Babies are awful. They cry all day, they spill everything, destroy everything when they learn to walk. It takes years to train them not to do their business in their pants. They smell. They meddle in things they should not even touch. He thought he was too old for this.

And of course, this wasn't all that worried Erik. From the first day of he acknowledged the child's existence and could see the thing growing inside Christine, he feared the moment he will see the child's features the first time. What if the child inherits his deformity? Will Christine and Erik himself, be able to love it as it is, if it does? He had terrible nightmares of holding a little monster with a skull face in his arms, and always woke up gasping and bathing in his sweat. Looking at his wife sleeping peacefully beside him helped a bit, her features were so calm and beautiful that he loved just looking at her silently. But the awful thought was always in his mind and he could not get free from the fear and worry deep down his heart.

Christine, on the other hand, was all happy about her pregnancy and was constantly talking about the baby to Erik, who tried to force an honest smile on his face, but he could have hit his head against the wall. She talked to the thing, sang lullabies to it, was working on crib sheet and small shoes and clothes for the newborn. They were so nicely embroidered with floral pattern, and some music notes, treble clef, bass clef and one of the small shirts had "Ange de Musique" written on the back in red. Christine showed the small clothes to Erik, and smiled widely.

\- What do you think, Erik dear? – She asked excitedly. – Aren't they sweet? Just imagine our child in these!

That was the first time Erik worded his fear, nearly all against his will. As he looked at the happy mother to be, excitedly showing him the baby's wardrobe, and he softly and bitterly remarked:

\- Don't forget to make a mask, my dear, maybe we are going to need it.

There was an uncomfortable silence between the couple for a few seconds, and before Christine could open her mouth to assure him of her love and calm him, he already fled out of the room and locked himself inside his study. Christine tried to follow him, but upon realizing the door was closed, she sighed and walked back to continue knitting the shoes. It was better to leave Erik work his anger or frustration out, and wait for him to settle his emotions in his own pace then forcing him to talk about his problems. He would not say more anyway, just sit there in silence that is more terrifying than his tantrums. A few hours later Erik returned with a sheet of blueprint.

\- Erik is sorry about leaving his dear Christine here alone for the afternoon. He has been designing the child's room. – He stated calmly as nothing have happened before. This was the first time he mentioned the child himself, till this very moment he only listened what Christine had to say about it. – He'd better start to work on it, we don't have much time left. – He added a bit ominously.

He buried himself in his work in those next weeks, getting all he needed and then to work on the addition to the house. He worked alone, even though he could have found help if he really wanted to. Christine often worried about her husband who did not get a moment of rest from work, during the day he worked as a contractor to put bread on the table, and when he got home, he was working on the nursery, and only stopped to use the bathroom. He did not eat much, just stuffed some bread in his mouth from time to time, he only had a bottle of water with him to drink even though it was really hot in the summer, and what made Christine worry the most, he did not get much sleep. He fled to work from his thoughts, and he only concentrated on the nursery being the nicest one in the whole world.

\- Erik dear… the baby only comes in the autumn. – Christine stepped behind Erik's back. – You should rest more…

\- Oh no, no, no, my Christine, my sweet girl. – Erik let out a small laugh and just continued to put the bricks- Erik is all right, you should not worry about him. He will finish this beautiful room for the baby, as our child only deserves the best. Just as you do, my dear.

While Erik put all his energy into creating the nicest room for the child, Christine felt useless. She had nothing to do all day since she was on maternity leave. She was determined to sing in the Opera until it was possible, but on a performance of Faust, she could not go onstage because of her pain. She was shocked something has happened to the baby. The doctor examined her and stated she must stay at home, taking good care of herself as she would lose the baby if she continues to work. Erik, of course, was all worried about his wife and in his mind, he blamed the unborn for Christine's change in health. He had more and more things to do at home as he did not let Christine to bend or reach out too high. He was ashamed to admit, but he often thought about it would have been better for everyone if Christine lost the child that night at the Opera. Women are very likely to die of childbirth… Christine was such a fragile little girl, is she even strong enough to give birth to a child…?

In early September, the room was done, it was rather big and light with huge windows that let much light in, with light brown wooden floor, stucco on the ceiling, and the walls painted to a sunny yellow color by waist height, and covered in wood lower. The wood on the wall was painted white. He tried to use colors suitable for both genders, even though he would have chosen darker colors if he made the room for himself. But he had to admit the room looked very nice with happy rays of sunshine lighting it. For a split second he imagined a cute little toddler, blond haired and blue – eyed like Christine, sitting on the floor playing with blocks and he suddenly had to smile. This was the first time he pictured the child as beautiful as anyone else. Who knows…? Maybe it can happen.

A week later the nursery was filled with the nicest furniture possible, all in harmony with the colors of the room, and many toys. Even a music box was placed on the small table beside the crib. It was made by Erik, on top of it was a mother figure cradling a baby, very nicely detailed, and played a 32 measure - long lullaby in F major, composed by Erik, just for the child.

Heavy steps startled him from his musings about the past few months. The midwife walked towards the main bathroom. Erik jumped up from his chair and stormed out of the drawing room:

\- How is my wife? Is she all right? Is the kid… healthy? Boy or girl? – he asked all of this with one breath.

\- Calm down, M'sieur, we haven't e'en started yet.

\- Then what on Earth are you doing here?

\- I need towels an' water, M'sieur. Soon the dance begins.

\- Begins? – Erik gasped. – What have you done until now, then?

\- We can't hurry nature, M'sieur, please be calm. The child ain't comin' out until it is time for it. You not telling 'em when.

\- His father's kid. – Erik murmured under his breath. – It wasn't even born and it already drives me crazy. – he sighed and dragged himself back to the drawing room and collapsed in the armchair.

Soon Christine's cries echoed through the rooms and Erik jumped up nervously. What on Earth is happening…? He had heard that giving birth was painful, but Christine sounded like she was being tortured. His ears could not bear it, and the drawing room suddenly felt too small… there is so foul air in here… fresh air… he needed it. He ran to the window and opened it, leaning out and took a few deep breaths. Cool and fresh air calmed him down a bit. He looked at his pocket watch. It was half past ten.

Christine's cries continued, but after some time that felt like an eternity, her voice changed. She did not cry out with so much pain as before, her tone was more like loud moans and nice musical notes. Erik suddenly got inspired, he ran to his study and returned with some music sheets. He did not want to lock in his study, as he did not know when he will be needed, he had to think of Christine. And to be honest he heard the sounds better here. He knelt down to the coffee table and wrote every sound he got. This will be a beautiful composition… His left hand was sliding on the music lines, note by note and he had to admit, Christine had an awesome and stunning performance. She reached to high F sometimes… such a pity no one musically educated could hear it. She included very impressive jumps and glissandos in her aria.

And then… it became a duet for a few seconds, such a pity Christine was out so quickly after secondo entered the music in the middle of a measure. Secondo now became primo. It will become an opera singer. It has strong lungs.

\- It cries in G major. – Erik remarked to himself and nodded. The kid really sounded like strong and capable of life.

But then he heard something else as well. A gasp. And then another cry. It was not Christine, neither the child. It was the midwife who cried out. The tone of her deep voice gave away horror and disbelief.

Something broke and one could hear splash of water. The washbowl, for sure…

The midwife stormed out of the bedroom when Erik stepped out of the drawing room to the hallway. She did not slow down, just gasped towards Erik as she passed him:

\- Lord have mercy…

Erik went back to the drawing room and broke out in a painful sob as he fell on his knees in front of the fireplace.

He did not even take a look at the child yet, but he already knew what that awful gasp did mean.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II.

It was born at midnight at 2nd November. The day of the Dead according to Catholic liturgy. Erik remembered back the grandfather's clock hit twelve when Christine sang her last notes, and the little monster did sing its first ones.

He knelt on the floor, shaking and weeping for nearly two hours. At first he thought he was shivering due to his inner fear and sorrow, but after a time he realized he left the window open. He slowly got up from the floor and staggered to the window and closed it. He sighed.

Everything was too silent. Christine did not let out any more cries or moans he could hear and the baby remained silent as well. Maybe it is dead? What has happened to Christine?

Alarmed, he hurried to the bedroom. The hallway seemed so much longer than before. Finally he reached for the doorknob with trembling hands. The door opened and Erik could see the remains of the washbowl, shattered to pieces on the floor in front of the bed. He nervously walked to the bed and called out:

\- Christine…? – He could not recognize his own voice.

No answer came, but a tiny gasp could be heard from the sheets. Erik suspiciously leaned closer and saw two tiny feet. He reached out for the baby to put it away from Christine's feet, he just randomly wanted to place it somewhere else to be able to take care of his wife who sure needs his help. He lifted the baby that was just hurriedly covered in a towel, and left on the bed.

But when he took a glimpse at the baby's face, he cried out in horror as well. The little thing looked just as horrifying as his poor miserable father. Erik even thought it looked WORSE than him. Erik, himself, at least had both eyes of the same yellow color. But the small monster's sunken eyes were mismatched, one light blue and one yellow. It lacked a nose, just as Erik did and its features were skull – like. The whole figure looked like it has just climbed out of the tomb. The tiny hands had bony long fingers. Its lips were absent on the right side of its face and showed the pure rose colored flesh of the gum. The kid's face and body was extremely thin and had a yellowish tint, just as Erik's. The only thing in which it resembled to Christine was the very few and silky blonde hair on its head. It only inherited its mother's hair, as Erik had a few locks of dark brown hair hanging down to his shoulder length, turning gray at the temples.

He held his nightmare in his hands. Of course, he had been worrying about this moment for months and as the midwife left, he KNEW what he was going to find here, that's why he was so miserable, but still it hit him unexpected in a way. His mind was racing. What shall he do to this… thing? Is it alive at all? Just as he was wondering, the thing opened its half- mouth. It was alive.

Erik shuddered. It would be the best to end its life… it will lead a miserable existence, full of hatred and hurt, just as his poor unhappy, miserable father. He should not let it happen. This thing does not deserve the treatment he got in his life. His bony fingers were wandering on the thing's neck when suddenly he heard the voice of an angel from the bed.

\- Erik… is that you? – He nearly dropped the thing out of his hands and released its neck.

\- Yes, my dear Christine… it is your loving husband. – He replied with his calmest voice possible.

\- What has happened.. to our child? … - she sounded so weak but so much worried. Erik cleared his throat as he answered.

\- Have you seen it? – He turned to Christine and nervously examined her facial expression.

\- No. I passed out when the baby was born finally. – she sighed exhaustedly. – I woke up just now.

\- I am sorry my dear… but it is… not alive… any more. – Erik said with his most compassionate tone.

\- Oh no! – she sobbed, but in this exact moment the small bundle of horror got tired of silence and gave a sign of its miserable existence by letting out a powerful cry. Erik almost dropped it again. – Oh but it is alive! – Christine hopefully rose on her pillows- Please let me see it, Erik… give me my child…!

\- Oh… no, no, no, my dear, it is… not worthy of your beautiful eyes to… look at it. – Erik sighed, in tears.

\- Erik… - Christine paused. – Does it…?

\- It does. – Erik nodded with a dark tone in his voice.

\- It doesn't matter. – Christine replied with a sudden determination. – It is our child, Erik… I love it anyway as I do love you too.

\- It would be better if Erik fixed his mistake and we could forget about this miserable happening. – He stated on a cold and very creepy way.

\- Erik…. – she gasped. – No… please… no….

\- Yes, Christine, it shall not have the same fate as your poor unhappy Erik… I would do it just for the child's own good… it would ask the same of me… if it could speak and understood it… - he cried.

\- NO! – She argued. – Give it to me, Erik… please… let me hold it… just let me see it….

\- For one first and last time, Erik will let his sweet Christine see it… as she wishes. – He placed the baby in Christine's hands.

When she saw the baby, she realized Erik was right, and to be honest, she was sorry for the baby, and in a way, she could understand why Erik wanted it dead so much. Of course, she did not. But Erik saw things differently, and in the end he wanted the best for them. But she should not let Erik kill it. No, no and no! She is going to protect the child.

\- A disgusting sight, isn't it? – She heard Erik's bitter voice beside her. – I don't blame you, my dear… my poor unhappy mother did not bear the sight of my face either… but don't worry… your Erik is going to take care of it… he promises it won't hurt to the baby, it really won't… - he reached out to take it from Christine, but she hugged it to herself protectively and turned to Erik.

\- No, you won't!

\- Christine…

\- Silence! – Her voice was so loud and demanding that Erik fell silent and the child started crying again. Christine soothingly cradled it in her arms and hushed it. – Erik… no matter what it looks like, it is our child and I want it to be alive. If you harm or kill it, you are not going to see me ever again in your life, do you hear me? Promise me you won't hurt the child!

\- You can't be serious… you sure don't want it to be around… we will have a lot of problems with it, believe me. That is why Erik did not want to have a child of his own… can't you see it, my dear, sweet, naïve Christine? Now there is one more miserable hideous creature on this Earth as Erik is… There should really not be two of Erik.

\- There isn't two of you, Erik. The baby is another person. It won't meet the same fate as you, my dear. Your mother treated you rough… but I will love our baby and treat it kindly.

\- It will be hard to live with a child like this. In every way possible, it will give us problems.

\- I don't care.

\- We could get past this awful episode and live just as we did before… sure it would cause you some sorrow at the beginning, my dear, but…

\- There is no BUT, Erik. The baby is a part of our lives now. Like it or not, it won't change. And if you don't accept the fact and try to harm it even by one finger of yours, I swear I will leave with the child and never ever return. I am willing to raise it all alone if you don't want us together.

\- Don't say that….- Erik whispered in pain and fell on his knees.

\- Promise it, Erik!

\- All right, all right… - he paused. – I promise. – He put his hand on his heart. – I do, just please stay…

\- I will as long as you don't hurt our baby.

\- Erik will try his best to accept his fate if that is what Christine asks of him, and will try to be a good father to the… child…

\- Erik… don't be afraid. Everything will be all right. We have gone through worse together. Remember the time after our wedding?

\- Don't make me recall it, please. – He sighed softly as raising back up at his feet.

\- I love you Erik.

\- Erik loves his Christine as well.

\- Please kiss me on the forehead. – She smiled.

Erik bent down and kissed his wife's sweaty forehead. He also caressed her face with his bony and cold fingers.

\- And now kiss the baby, please. – She continued.

\- Erik is afraid he caught a cold. – He swallowed. – He doesn't want to infect the newborn with his germs.

\- Erik… you are perfectly healthy. Please kiss our child to show how much you love it.

Erik gave a quick kiss to the baby's cold face. It was just as cold as he was – a little living dead.

\- Is it a boy or a girl? – He asked after a bit of silence.

\- A girl. – Christine smiled. – We have a daughter, Erik. How should we name her?

Erik looked helplessly at his shoes. Now he understood why he didn't have a name as a child. How on Earth someone could name a thing that looks like this? There are no suitable human name for the thing. Maybe if they get to know it a bit more of her habits… it would be easier. Why people have to name newborns anyway? They did not understand their own names and there is not much to call on even a normal looking baby, let alone such a little monster as she is.

\- I honestly don't have a single idea. – Erik murmured finally.

\- Maybe we should name her Lotte? – Christine tried to help. – And that way we could call her Little Lotte…

\- Ha! – Erik exclaimed a bit more sarcastically than he wanted to.

\- Margerite…? – Christine continued.

\- No. – Erik answered simply.

\- Christine? – She tried to make him happier as she thought this was his favorite girl name.

\- I never liked names going from generation to generation in families. – He shook his head.

\- Then tell me a name you like. And please don't think of the child's face, Erik. What would you name your daughter?

Erik was biting his lips for a time, and scratched his head. He then finally whispered a name in front of him:

\- Mahtab.

\- Mah… Mahtab? – Christine repeated curiously.

\- Yes. – He nodded dreamily.

\- What kind of name is it?

\- Persian. – He explained shortly.

\- What does it mean?

\- Moonlight.

\- A beautiful name…

\- It is. – He nodded.

\- Did you know someone very dear to you with this name? – Christine asked, looking at Erik's strong emotional reaction to that name. He seemed to hug someone dear in his mind.

\- I have to clean up the mess… - He stood up nervously. – You might step in the washbowl's remainings and Erik really does not want that to happen.

He did not say anything else, just tidied the room to be normal again.

\- I like the name Mahtab. – Christine said as Erik knelt down to mop the puddle of water.

\- Good. – Erik nodded. – We should name her that then.

As he finished cleaning, he walked to the bed once more and kissed Christine on the forehead.

\- Good night my dear. Just call my name if you need anything. I should put… Mahtab… to bed. It is late and she is sure tired…. And I will also retire for the rest of the night… I am a bit worn out from these happenings.

\- Don't hurt her… please. – She took Erik's arm as he wanted to leave with the baby.

\- I promised. – He nodded and carried the baby out of the room.

When he got all alone with the child he washed it in the sink of the main bathroom, dried it and covered it in the same towel he found her in. In the nursery he tried to put a diaper on her, but she was moving too much, so he just bundled her in it. He sighed. He knew he had to learn much about taking care of babies. He never held such a tiny child before. He covered her up with a blanket and then left. He did it all monotonously, without any feelings. It was frightening he could not feel anything towards his own daughter. Or maybe was he just tired…?

He lay down to the sofa in his study and kicked his shoes off. He blew out the candle and sighed. Maybe tomorrow everything will be better.

Maybe he will love her within time… or at least maybe God will help him. There are so many children's disease… smallpox, diphtheria, sudden infant death syndrome…

Maybe he doesn't have to kill it himself… God will take care of her… hopefully.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III.

The sleeping Erik startled up at night to a baby's cry. At first, he did not even know what has happened. He just jumped up from the couch and while sitting up he banged his head at full force against the bookshelf above the couch of his study. He groaned then some cusswords left his lips.

\- Who on Earth put that damned shelf here…? Oh… it was Erik, of course…- he moaned, then stood up. – May the Devil take me… - he added, then yawned. The baby continued crying.

Erik dragged himself out of his study and walked to the nursery. The little thing was crying in the cradle where he put her.

\- What is it now, you little thing? – He walked closer. – Don't you know it is rude to wake people up at night…?

He lifted the child and examined it. The diaper, of course, slipped off, as he did not put it on normally, but thankfully it was still clean.

\- Then what on Earth is your problem? Well, I sure know you have a reason to cry about, but Erik hardly thinks you would be able to understand it now… and Erik doesn't like if he is woken up at night, you see… he tends to be grumpy if it happens…

The baby got silent as Erik was talking to it. He slowly started to cradle it in his arms and sat down in a chair with the baby and placed it on his lap.

\- Well, you don't even know my name, right…? So, my name is Erik and I am your father. You may call me Papa later if you live up to the day when you learn to talk. We will wait and see.

He was examining the child's features as the little girl lay on his lap. With a sudden idea, he took out the handkerchief of his pocket and put it on the baby's face. He nodded and removed the handkerchief. He measured the child's face with his fingers, length and width, space between the eyes, height of the eyes, and put the baby back in the cradle and left to his study.

An hour later he got back to the nursery and put Mahtab's very first mask on her face. He decided to leave the baby's mouth free until it gets older. He did not want to close all way of air from the baby, they breathe harder than adults anyway. Well, the sight wasn't too much better with the mask either, but she will have to get used to the mask, they'd better start to wear it the earliest possible.

He sat beside the baby the rest of the night. He wasn't sleepy any more. And he was a bit of worried about the little thing. When dawn came and the child opened its eyes, Erik picked her up and walked to the bedroom with her.

\- Good morning, my dear Christine. – He carried the baby to the bed.

\- Good morning, Erik dear. – She smiled at him.

\- I brought you the child so you don't have to wake up if not necessary. You have to take care of yourself my angel. Just feed the baby and while that Erik is going to prepare breakfast for you. – He placed Mahtab in her mother's arms, then turned around to leave, but Christine's gasp made him stop.

\- Erik, what have you done? – She asked with growing disbelief and pain in her voice.

\- I beg your pardon? – Erik turned back with surprise.

\- The mask, Erik. You put a mask on our newborn baby's head! – She could barely find her words in her surprise and disappointment.

\- Oh, that? – He did not even seem like he regretted it. – Never mind it, my dear, she will get used to it.

\- I don't want her to get used to it! – She removed the mask from Mahtab, and threw it at Erik.

\- Wow, wow! – Erik took a step backwards. – Throwing things at me, eh?

\- You should be happy I can't reach that candleholder. – Christine stated coldly.

\- Now what's the matter? I only wanted the best for her. The earlier she starts to wear it the less she will fuss about it.

\- I don't want a mask on my child, Erik! We are not covering her face. It is wrong on so many levels.

\- Erik got his first mask at the very night of his birth. – He shrugged. – She won't get any harm of it. Maybe some scars on her face when she is growing it out, but I will make sure not to wait until that happens. She gets newer masks always.

\- Erik you don't understand…

\- Well, if you don't like plain white mask, we could decorate it somehow. Just I'd suggest not to put small pearls on it, she might get them off and swallow them…

\- Erik, you clearly don't understand. No mask at all, I said.

\- Why would you make her suffer? They will hurt her.

\- No, Erik…

\- They will throw STONES at her.

\- Nonsense, Erik, you are ridiculous. We are not in the Middle Ages any more.

\- Christine, dear naïve Christine, let Erik tell you something. Will you listen? People would throw stones at me without my mask even today. How do I know it you ask? I tried it several times, even before our wedding my dear, always believing people change. But they DON'T. They never change, Christine.

\- Oh Erik… - she swallowed back some tears. – But… they would not hurt a baby….

\- They will, Christine, they will. – He reassured.

\- You don't know people… you are afraid of them.

\- No, Christine… it is you who don't know people. Erik does. But just as you wish. Just take her out for a walk without a mask… and see what happens. But don't forget to schedule an appointment to our family doctor for Mahtab before… she is going to need it. – He turned around again and took a few steps to the door, but he turned back before leaving the room. – Erik is sorry for losing his temper… he is worried about you both…. Well, I am in the kitchen, making breakfast if you need me.

Christine looked at the baby as she was feeding her. The features looked bad of course, but who would hurt a baby just because of its looks? Yes, Erik was hurt a lot, and she felt sorry for her husband because he had to suffer so much, but she believed a mother's love can protect a child from many things. People can1t hate a baby for something she has nothing to do about… they just can't be so cruel…

When Erik returned, picked up the baby from her hands and placed the tray full of toast, jam abd butter on her lap, she softly and carefully stated:

\- Erik, I have been thinking about what you have said… but I am sure we can protect her, even without mask. I don't want her to wear a mask. I don't want to treat her like your mother treated you. I love her.

\- Look, Christine… my poor unhappy mother did not treat me bad. She loved me in a way. The mask wasn't a sign of her hatred towards me, as it isn't a sign of hatred from me towards Mahtab. I have to protect her. Love in itself can't protect a child from society's cruelty. A mask, more or less, can.

\- I am sure it can, Erik, if we both love her very much. We can. We love her. Do you love her, Erik?

\- She is my daughter. I have to love her, as a parent, it is required of me. – He replied.

\- But… do you?

\- I honestly don't know it yet. I don't even know her.

\- Erik…

\- You asked for Erik's honest opinion. This is it.

\- I thought the parents love the child instantly. Without knowing it. That is what makes you a parent.

\- It is usually just the mother at first, Christine. Many fathers think the same way about even their beautiful babies. They are not sure about their feelings. Erik isn't sure of his yet either.

\- What do you feel for her…? – She asked nervously. – Hatred?

\- No. – He shook his head. – Pity. And worry.

\- Are you repulsed by her?

\- A little bit, but I am going to get used to her. I am repulsed by myself as well, Christine. Still, I am. And as she looks like me, you could not really expect anything else. But as I said, I will try my best to be a good father. We will try to raise her the closest possible to a normal child.

\- You said you worry about her?

\- I do. – Erik nodded.

\- Then… you love her. – She exclaimed happily. – If you worry about someone, you sure love them. Why would you care and worry about someone you don't like?

\- Hm… - Erik scratched his head then looked down to the child in his arms.- I guess you caught me with your reasoning Christine. I did not think of it this way before, but sure there is truth in what you say. But anyway, I will give her everything she could need. Also a father's love.

\- Oh Erik… I love you! – Christine smiled with tearful eyes.

\- I love you too. – Erik smiled. – But please don't cry in that tea. It makes it weaker. – He laughed shortly.

\- I love your sense of humor. - She added.

\- It was the only thing that helped me through my life. And music, of course. – Erik sighed. – I think these are the things we need to overcome whatever problems we might face.

Christine recovered fast from childbirth. With Erik's help and caring, she regained her strength quickly, and in two weeks she was well enough to take a walk. Erik bought a pram of the newest model for the child so they could take her out with them. Christine smiled. It was the first time they left home together. Only Erik went to work in these past two weeks and he took her out to the garden for a few minutes before. Erik walked Mahtab in the pram and Christine was proudly walking next to him. Everything was so idyllic. Mahtab did not wear a mask, but Erik put a cap on her head and bundled her in a very soft and warm blanket that covered her from head to toe and one could only see her eyes. This is how they took Mahtab to walk with them always, day by day, in the Fall and winter.

\- It is good like this in the winter. – Erik remarked. – We have to protect the child anyway from catching a cold. I just wonder what we will do in the summer when it is warm.

\- We should not hide her face at all, Erik, I am proud of her.

\- Sweet dreams, Christine… sweet, sweet dreams. – He shook his head and laughed, but not sarcastically, just let out a short laugh.

He could not believe Christine was so naïve she really expected people to accept Mahtab's look without being cruel to her. Well, Christine was beautiful, she never had to suffer the same fate as Erik. People are nice to a beautiful child.

Christmas was different that year.

They had a schedule that worked the years before Mahtab's birth, but a tiny baby made it fall like a house of cards from a wind. They did not even figure out their normal daily routine with the child, in these nearly two months. Erik, of course, was a helpful husband to Christine, and helped her with cleaning, cooking and taking care of the baby, but to be honest, he left Mahtab to her mother as much as possible. He always left the room when Christine fed their daughter, and if there was a way, he would avoid cleaning Mahtab as well. He only held her when it was necessary, and then quickly put her back either to the cradle or gave her to Christine.

He never sang for Mahtab, it was only Christine that sang her lullabies in Swedish. Erik liked to watch them from a distance, but never actively took part of the ceremony. Christine kissed Mahtab good night, Erik just walked to the cradle and said: "Good night Mahtab.", then walked away.

He was, to be honest, a bit of jealous. This little monster looked like a corpse of a normal baby, just as he did in his infancy, and as you can expect from a baby, she was always messy with drooling, and yet, Christine still could kiss her. Why his mother could not do the same? Why did she deny those kisses from him if he looked the same, and Christine can do it without a word of protest? And why can't he? He isn't a better person than his mother, he is just as shallow… he wanted to believe he was and he could love someone like him. This was the feeling that made him feel the most miserable.

Seeing the happy mother with her child just gave tiny thorns in his heart, day by day.

But on Christmas day Christine did not have time to be so much with the little girl. She was in the kitchen, baking and cooking the menu and she was cleaning. Erik wanted to help her but she told him it would be the most help if he took care of Mahtab. Erik took the child with him to the living room as he was decorating the tree. The baby was silent for awhile, but then she started crying.

\- Don't cry. – Erik sighed.

At first he did not want to get too much bothered about the crying, babies always fuss about something. She just ate, so she can't be hungry. She was changed, then there are not much else she could need. He did not want to leave the tree to pick up Mahtab, so as she did not stop crying and it annoyed him, he started to sing.

Il est né le divin enfant,

Jouez hautbois, résonnez musettes !

Il est né le divin enfant,

Chantons tous son avènement !

As he sang this Christmas song, the child was silent. After he finished the song he thought Mahtab was already asleep, so he stopped it, but as Mahtab did not hear him sing she started fussing again, so Erik sang more and more songs to her to make her shut her face.

At first he thought he was singing just because he did not want her to cry, but after a time he caught himself picking her up and cradling her in his arms, singing to the child. He looked at the girl's mask less little face and he nearly caressed it when Christine entered the room.

The magical moment flew away and Erik just saw the horrid little features in front of him.

\- I think she is sleepy. – Erik gave Mahtab to Christine. – Put her to sleep my love, and I take a look at dinner and get dressed for the night.

\- Erik I don't know how we could attend mass this year. – Christine said worriedly after returning from the nursery. – What about Mahtab? She is too small for being there with us yet.

\- She will be fine here.

\- Alone? – She gasped in horror.

\- Why? Nothing happens to a child if it is placed correctly.

\- You… can't be serious. What if she dies….?

\- She can die when we are at home as well.

\- Oh, Erik, you can really lift my spirits….

\- You are living in a dream world, Christine. You think all is happening as in a storybook. But life isn't a storybook, my dear.

\- You could at least try to make compromise.

\- You may stay with her if you want, but I don't miss the organ music at church. That is the only thing I like about religion.

\- Erik!

\- At least I admit it. – He shrugged.

\- No, I mean… you like music more than your own child?

\- Of course. – Erik replied with natural tone in his voice.

\- Well… if that's what you think, I shall go to the nursery and spend Christmas with the one I love: my daughter!

She stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind her. Erik suddenly felt so ashamed… he was just being honest, to tell the truth… but he should have worded his sentences more carefully. He sat down to the sofa and was thinking about his family. If he goes on like this, he is going to lose them…

But maybe if he changed how he looks at things… he should accept Mahtab as a part of his family, she can't be left out from their Christmas. Until this time, they used to celebrate Christmas in a way they both liked… - but who said it is the only way to do it? If they celebrate somehow else, it will be still a beautiful holiday.

He finished cooking dinner and set the table. He used the very expensive and beautiful set of plates he inherited from his mother and only used for holidays like Christmas, Easter or Christine's Birthday. He finished decorating the tree and served dinner. After that he picked up his violin and knocked on the nursery's door.

Christine was surprised to hear a knock on the door, she thought Erik already left to Church. It was already past eleven. She rose from the chair and curiously opened the door. She had the nicest sight in her life: Erik knelt in front of her and started playing her favorite Swedish Christmas song on the violin. She burst out in tears of joy and just stood there, listening to her husband.

\- Merry Christmas, my life. – Erik stood up, smiling.

\- Oh… Erik… - She could not say a single word.

She was so touched and happy he did not leave and took part of her Christmas, even though it was different than usual. Everything was so beautiful and perfect. After dinner Erik stood up and walked to Christine's chair, and took a small box out of his pocket.

\- I hope you don't mind an early gift, my love, as Erik should only give it to you in the morning… but… to be honest, Erik's gift was much earlier from you.

\- What are you talking about…? – Christine got surprised.

\- Our child, of course. – Erik laughed. – You gave Erik the most beautiful gift in November.

She hugged him, crying. She did not think Erik loved their child so much. She was a bit afraid he did not like her at all. Upon looking into the little box, she saw a silver necklace with a half-moon medal.

\- You gave me moonlight, Erik gives you the Moon itself, as he will give the Sun, the Moon and all the stars from the sky to you and Mahtab, to make you both happy. You two are my family. And Erik loves you both.

Christine got surprised when Erik just turned around after this little confession and walked away. She followed him and realized he was heading to the nursery. He stood next to the cradle, bent down to the tiny girl in it, stroked her face with his thumb and said:

-Merry Christmas, Mahtab, my dear. Papa loves you.

That was the first time Christine heard him talking to Mahtab, referring to himself as "Papa". Until this point he only called himself "Erik" to the baby as well.

Ice is finally and slowly breaking… it is the best Christmas gift… a father's love to their child.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV.

Time passed so fast. After Christmas, there came the New Year of 1886, with a peaceful and silent New Year's Eve, and they suddenly realize it was April again. Mahtab was already 5 months old, and healthy just as her parents wished her to be.

Erik, slowly and steady made peace with her, he took part more and more in his daughter's nursing. He would spend time with her on his lap, as now she could sit if he sat her against something, he sat in his favorite armchair with her, softly humming to her. Mahtab loved her father's voice. It comforted her when she was scared of something, and Erik used his angelic singing and speaking voice to comfort the child – however well they started to get along, he still wasn't a fan of a baby's cry, so he did not really want to listen to it for a long time.

Christine was so happy for the couple – father and daughter – together that she left them the most possible. She often caught Erik "taking care of Mahtab" ended up in he went to his study with the child under his arm, just as he was carrying a violin case, then as she took a peek in through the slightly open door, she could see Erik sitting at his desk, composing on a work, holding Mahtab on his lap with his right hand, while Mahtab was babbling about something on baby language. Erik did not seem to mind or even notice Mahtab's little monologues.

The first warm Sunday came since Mahtab's birth. They were ready for their walk, Erik put the baby in the pram and took the tiny mask out of his pocket, where he was hiding it and tried to put it on his daughter's head, carefully, not to hurt her or accidentally put a finger in her nose- hole when Christine appeared in the hallway.

\- What are you doing, Erik? – She asked annoyed.

\- What it looks like? – Erik replied with a question that was something that made Christine mad always. – You could come here and help Erik, so she could stop moving her head. Erik is afraid he will hurt her. See that is why I told you earlier we should put the mask on her from time to time… now she doesn't know it.

Mahtab got tired of the process and started to whine then cry.

\- You are hurting her. – Christine picked Mahtab out of the pram and hugged her. – Ssssssssh!

\- No, I am not. – Erik answered. – Just trying to dress her.

\- I have already told you I don't want her to wear a mask.

\- Then how we should protect her, Christine, please tell me a better way if you can. I am open to more ideas, if you are so very experienced in that matter, my love, please don't hesitate to give Erik a clue how to solve this. – Erik added a bit of sarcastically.

\- You could give her a fake nose instead of a mask. – Christine suggested.

\- Not a suitable solution for a baby at her age. It closes up her nose and she will have breathing problems. And you can believe Erik that the fake nose isn't that pleasant to wear, it will be long until she gets mature enough to bear the discomfort. And don't forget that a baby works other way than an adult – it will be all messy always and if not kept clean enough – which is hard with such a tiny child – it can be a great place for bacteria which leads to endless nasal infections.

\- You are… right… I guess. – Christine backed off in the argument a little bit.

\- Erik is right, Christine, he wishes he did not know so much about fake noses. But he knows it all too well, Christine… - he sighed and laughed bitterly.

\- Erik, I still don't want her to wear a mask.

\- As you wish. – Erik let out a tired sigh.

\- I am also afraid of people will look weird at her….

\- They will, for sure.

\- No, not because of her face… her name… Erik, for God's sake, why did you have to give her a Persian name…? It is beautiful, but it isolates her even more from European people and she will always be…

\- What did you say…? – Erik looked at Christine with a sudden interest.

\- I asked… why you gave her a Persian name…

\- Persian… yes… the solution… it was right in front of Erik's NOSE!

\- What? – She gasped. – Erik what on Earth are you talking about…?

\- My dear Christine… could you give me Mahtab a little?

\- What do you want to do to her, Erik…? We were supposed to go for a walk in the park as usual…

\- Oh no, no, no, dear Christine… Erik is sorry he has to cancel this for today as he has to take Mahtab to visit someone.

\- Who? – Christine asked nervously when Erik gently took Mahtab out of her arms, and hugged her in his right arm.

\- Her… Godfather if you like this name.

\- But… she doesn't have one… we were talking about religion before, but…

\- She will, soon, my dear… she will. Now, come my sweet little daughter, we should take a short trip to Papa's study… and after, we leave and visit your dear old Godfather. He is a nice fellow, Mahtab, dear, you shall not fear him.

\- Erik… Erik where are you going?

Christine could not move from shock as Erik just walked out of the house with their child in his arms, and she had to sit down to take some deep breaths… she was so scared. It never meant any good when Erik had a sudden change in his behavior….

"Who this might be on Sunday?" – He had an uncomfortable feeling as he rose from his chair as he heard the doorbell ring. A visitor on Sunday here in France does not mean any good. His manservant knocked and nervously peeked in the door.

\- A man is here to talk to you, Master.

\- Who is it? – He asked worriedly.

\- I don't know, Master… he did not say his name.

\- Is he wearing a mask? – The man's voice became higher pitched from fear.

\- No, Master. – The servant replied.

\- No?

\- No. He is an ordinary man with a very nice voice

\- Allah above… let him in… but please stay near if… I'd need help.

\- As you wish. – The servant left and there came the visitor with the baby in hand. The other man did not look at the door – he did not dare to. He sat back in his chair and waited for the worst to happen, with the bell within his reach to be able to call Darius if needed.

\- Good morning, Daroga! – a cheerful, angelic male voice startled him as his visitor arrived behind his back and without any further invitation, he jumped into the chair that faced the Daroga.

Yes, it was Erik, but he had a normal looking face with thin, not too big nose, a mustache and greenish – blue eyes that lit a bit of otherworldly, covered with a pair of glasses of the latest fashion, but other than that, he did not look anything like the old version of himself. He did not even wear black this time, he had a light grey suit with red cravat. Only his shoulder length dark brown hair gave him away that he kept braided if he left home. His bony skeletal hands were covered by black gloves. He looked like any other Frenchman on the streets. The Persian had to admit he looked handsome compared to his real face and his age.

\- Erik, I… did not even recognize you… just by your voice.

\- So you like my new mask. – He stated, and let out a small laugh.

\- What is… in your hand…? – The Daroga asked with surprise, examining Erik.

\- It is my daughter, Daroga. I came here to talk about you and her.

\- Daughter? – The Daroga exclaimed.

\- Yes, Daroga, Erik is a father. And I came to you to ask if you have thought about a way to repay Erik for saving your life.

\- For saving my life? You aren't talking about the Torture Chamber, are you?

\- Be quiet, you wake her up. – He silenced the Persian coldly. – No. Erik is talking about the little favor he is doing to you… for ages… for decades.

\- What favor?

\- You already forgot? – Erik shook his head. – Tisk, tisk… Daroga… hmmm…. Well… how much does the rent of this nice apartment cost for you my friend…?

\- Why do you want to know?

\- Just to know… how much money do you owe Erik a month.

\- I am not paying you, Erik.

\- No, no. He doesn't need your money. He needs your service… otherwise Erik would tell the Persian government… our little secret. Just a little letter, and they get to know Erik is still here… alive.

\- They won't believe you.

Erik took a small paper out of his pocket and handed it to the Persian.

\- Here is, Daroga, a sketch of the part of the blueprints… later modified…. Of the Palace Mazandaran. Erik just has to include it with his letter to prove his words… as no one but the original designer can have this. They can even compare my handwriting – the same on the sketch and now. Erik has a very unique cursive, you know…

The Daroga took a deep breath and with shaking fingers he held the chair. He closed his eyes and on a soft voice he whispered:

\- Erik what do you want of me still? You asked me to be your best man on your wedding and promised me you will lead a good life. What service do you need now? Why are you blackmailing me with our past still? I got my punishment in Persia already for that…

\- Oh no, Daroga. You got your punishment for losing Erik. But he was found dead later… or as they thought… they put you to prison because I "fled", but if they knew that you helped Erik escape and he was still alive… they would not pay you a dime from now on, and you could go live under "Pont Alexandre III".

\- You would not do that. You have a family they would kill you. – The Persian tried to stay calm.

\- I would do it for my family, Daroga. I'd rather die than suffer with my daughter about something she can do nothing about.

\- What do you mean…?

\- I want you to be the role model for my daughter in religion.

\- What? Why?

\- Because she will have to cover her face in public if that is the case. – Erik looked down to the floor, and fought back some tears. – You won't have much to do, Daroga… you really won't. Just show up with the girl from time to time, so everyone knows you are her "Godfather". She shall have Islam as her religion so that she can live in peace…

\- Erik… is she… ? Is she… deformed….? That's why she has to hide her face…?

Erik, without an answer, showed the child's uncovered tiny face to the Daroga, who made a little terrified gasp, but other than that he remained a gentleman.

\- See? – Erik asked silently. – Christine doesn't want her to wear a mask as she sees it as a sign of hatred or unacceptance from Erik. But Erik only wants to protect her, Daroga, and would do anything for her.

\- Why didn't you ask me normally, Erik, instead of starting your old tricks and trying to scare me?

\- Because I did not think you would say yes to Erik any other way. No one wants a mondter child… Erik himself had wished her dead many times in her first weeks, Daroga… how should he expect someone else to accept her if he was repulsed by her tiny face as well?

The Daroga wiped some tears out of the corner of his eyes then put his hand on Erik's shoulder. He rarely touched Erik, but now he wanted to show support and compassion to that desperate father.

\- I am honored to give the gift of Islam to your little daughter, Erik.

Erik let out a relieved sigh and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief.

\- She even has a name that is suitable for her religion. – Erik continued after some pause.

\- What is her name?

\- Mahtab.

Silence. Awkward and long silence fell between the two men and they could hear Mahtab's breathing as well.

\- Erik why…?

\- You know why, Dsroga.

\- You still… could not get over it?

\- No. And never will.

\- It wasn't your fault, Erik… she made that decision herself… she could have said otherwise…

\- Enough, Daroga. I gave my daughter the name of the only woman ever loved Erik. – He sighed. – And who was my first and only love before I married my wife. My dead wife gives her name to my living child.

\- As you wish. – The Persian nodded. – Do you want a tea? – He added comfortingly.

\- No, thank you. – Erik shook his head. – Come to us next week to… talk about the details to Christine, please. Here is my address. – Erik placed a tiny card on the table in front of the Daroga, who curiously picked it up.

\- Spöke? – He read out loud. – Erik Spöke? Is it your name….? Finally! Are you… German, Erik?

\- No. You know well I was born near Rouen. It isn't in German anyway.

\- Then?

\- Swedish. It is just a name I took when I married Christine. She did not take "my" last name as in the Opera, she is well – known by the name 'Daaé". It is just the name I took so we at least resemble a normal family.

\- What does it mean?

\- Ghost. – Erik laughed. – Oh, Daroga… one more word… please… we tell the public we know each other from your country where you did me a great favor and that is why I asked you to be my daughter's religious father. Technically we don't even lie.

\- We just leave out some unnecessary details. – the Daroga nodded.

They both smiled. It was always Erik's reaction when the Persian caught him lying about something " I did not lie, Daroga, just left out some unnecessary details."

\- You could call me by my real name. – He added after some pause. – If we are nearly family now.

Erik hesitantly placed Mahtab down in the chair to free up his right hand then reached out for a friendly handshake:

\- Salâm, Mohammed- Ismâel.

\- Salâm, Erik. – He shook Erik's hand, and in his heart, he was thankful the man wore gloves. His touch was extremely cold, and he wasn't very fond of it.

\- You know… - Erik looked at the Persian as he picked up Mahtab from the chair. – I am happy you will be a role model for my daughter, as she won't turn out that wicked as Erik is… despite her looks. She will have good influence all over her… you and my dear Christine.

The Persian was so touched he could not say anything to this, just bowed his head. Erik cleared his throat, and took a few steps towards the door, but then he turned back.

\- Thank you, Dar…. Well… Mohammed… and don't eat anything next Sunday… you are coming for lunch.

\- Thank you Erik. I will be there. – He smiled.

Erik left the room and the Persian let out a relieved sigh and rang for Darius:

\- Darius, please make tea.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter V.

Christine wasn't too pleased to hear about Erik's plan for a solution. The week wasn't too pleasant for any of them. Erik got tired of her constant "nagging" him, and Christine just listed her worries nervously and endlessly. She could not think of anything else, but her daughter's strange religion Erik chose for her, without even asking her opinion. Erik left for work in the morning, accompanied to the front door by Christine, who tried to make him change his mind, she was talking to him all the time in the morning while Erik got up, got dressed and even though he did not give her a single word of answer, or just groaned some words of displeasure in front of himself, or some soft cusswords, she continued her mini- monologues, constantly walking in Erik's heels.

\- Will you shut your face for a moment and let me use the bathroom in peace at least? – He got tired of the twentieth minute of Christine's "concert aria in rondo form", as Erik called these monologues, and just decided to flee out of the situation.

The atmosphere between them got more and more gunpowder – filled, day by day. Erik was tired from working hard during the day, and he had to arrive home to Christine's rondo, to make matters worse.

\- Here, – Erik slammed a piece of paper on the table in front of Christine on Wednesday evening, after tiredly returning from the construction to Christine's whining again,- is a piece of goddamned paper. List your worries and your sentences that start with "But Erik…", or "You selfish monster…", and he will answer all of them, finally and after that, he doesn't want to hear a word about this! Leave me alone, Christine, I am tired. – He sighed.

He sat down to an armchair, a bit of further from Christine, he buried his forehead in his hand and gently massaged it. Christine saw how tired he was, and sure had a headache, so she did not say anything else, but started to write. The list contained these questions and remarks:

1\. At least you could have asked my opinion about giving a whole new religion to our child. It is your decision alone.

2\. Do I have to be Islam as well? And you? Do you believe in God at all?

3\. I hardly know that man you asked for this important role.

4\. Who was Mahtab?

Erik picked up the list, read it then sighed.

\- Is it all?

\- Yes. – She said quietly.

\- All right: Firstly, I just had the sudden idea about the Islam. I wasn't even sure the Daroga will say yes. Christine, what on Earth do you want and expect of Erik? He is not a wizard. He is only searching for a possible solution. Either the mask or this. Nothing is good for you… you can't be pleased anyway.

\- It is a bit too drastic.

\- Such as the situation itself. Anyway, I did not ask you about it because of two things: one: You would have said no anyway, and secondly: in Islam, it is the father's right to make decisions regarding his daughter.

\- And do I have to wear a veil too?

\- No. It is only the child, she will be raised like that. Christine, what is so wrong with Mahtab learning something different? Tell me, how do you know only the one religion you are following, is the One True thing? In a Persian's eyes, it is actually YOU without any beliefs. Why not teach her in time that a person is nothing less than others just because they look and think otherwise? Last Christmas, I thought to myself: just because we did it like this until now, is it the only good way? Of course, not. Change is not a bad thing, mostly. Please think about this, Christine, as I did. She will learn about new cultures, new ways of thinking, and more perspectives. You can talk to her about Christianity if you want. At least she will learn about how you think and accepts many points of view. And, to add to the philosophy: the two religions aren't that different. Islam, more or less, teaches the same things: help others, don't lie, don't steal, be good to others, accept and love your human mates…

\- And why aren't they allowed to leave the house without a man?

\- Because that is how they protect their women from other men, who may harm them. Either her father or her husband accompanies a woman to the streets. There is nothing wrong with it.

\- I don't really know that Persian.

\- He tried to save you from me with your young man. – He remarked bitterly. – If it isn't a sign of his good will, I don't know what is. He hardly knew you, Christine, and was willing to risk his life over you, by helping de Chagny. He nearly died there, you see…

\- I am sorry.

\- Just please be kind to him. He is a good man. I would place my daughter's life in his hands at any time. I trust him, Christine, and like him in my own way. Not much people gained Erik's trust.

\- If you are sure about this… I accept your decision. I can see you want the best for the child. And… who that Mahtab was, Erik?

Silence. Erik sat back, looked like he was sick or really tired. Christine thought he fell asleep suddenly, but no. He was just staring blankly into the air.

\- Erik…?

\- Erik would rather not talk about it, Christine. – Finally he spoke, but his voice was as emotionless as a mechanical creature's.

\- Were you in love with her? – She continued stubbornly.

\- Do you know the tale of "Blue Beard"?

\- Yes… - Christine nodded.

The "Blue Beard" tale again? Christine remembered back that awful night with the scorpion and the grasshopper… Erik mentioned the tale then as well, when she caught the little bag with the keys. What does he mean with this tale always…? Erik worded things so mystically sometimes.

\- Well… - He spoke very quietly as he continued again. – A man's heart is like the castle of "Blue Beard", Christine. There are rooms in it he likes to guide you through, there are some of them he shows carefully, but there are also rooms that are locked… forever. And it would just give me much pain if I opened that door for you. I keep it closed not to remember it… to forget… to bury the past. – He sighed again then rose to leave.

\- At least you could say something about her…

\- I'd rather not, as I said.

\- You sure loved her much if you name my child after her… maybe even more than you love me…?

\- Why do I have to measure love on pharmacy scales? – He burst out in frustrated, tired anger. – Leave me alone Christine, please tonight Erik has had enough… don't follow him… he is working on a composition he wants to finish… and Erik needs peace and calm for it.

He left the room so quickly that Christine did not have time to ask for his forgiveness, but she knew it wasn't even that much important – if Erik got frustrated or mad it was the best to leave him alone. She silently cried in her chair. She did not think Erik will react this way to a simple question that was bugging her for months. Part of her wanted to accept and forget Erik's past, as she did not want to cause any more pain to his already tortured soul, but the other part of her was curious about the happenings and that mysterious woman Erik found worthy of such an honor, to name his only child after her.

Christine slowly went towards the nursery to check on the baby and spend some time with her in her sadness, but when she opened the door she saw Erik silently cradling the baby in his arms, softly humming the Brahms Lullaby to her. She had to smile to the thought that Erik chose the baby's company to help him calm down, instead of retreating in his study for the rest of the night, composing himself to sleep, or leave without any sleep for work the next morning.

She approached Erik from behind and put a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head back, looked Christine in the eye.

\- Erik could not work. – He said with a bitter tone in his voice. – He is not calm enough. Please don't start it again. – He pleaded.

\- I am sorry, Erik. – She whispered contritely.

Without an answer, Erik put an arm around Christine's shoulder and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. They stood there for a long time, like a happy family, all three of them. It was like a painting or a family photograph as they hugged each other, and finally their hand reached for each other and interweaved around their child.

\- Come to bed, my dear. – He offered kindly. – It is late. - Erik finally placed Mahtab back in the cradle and stroke her tiny face with his finger, then they left the room, arm in arm.

Sunday came fast since Erik and Christine made peace. Christine was surprised to see Erik was cooking lunch. She knew he can cook, but he mostly did not like the process, it took his time he could have used for more important things. Eating and making food wasn't that important to Erik, he only cooked on special occasions or when he wanted to be kind to Christine for some reason.

\- Why are you cooking? – Christine asked curiously. – You know I like it and I'd gladly cook for the Persian.

\- That is something Erik wanted to avoid. – Erik laughed. – Not because of your cook, as you are a perfect cook, especially since we are married. But there are certain food the Daroga isn't allowed to have, because of his religion and you can't know about it. It would be a bit of awkward, you see. And… well, I know what his favorite is. I make it for him since he is doing such a great favor for us.

\- You are so thoughtful. That is something I like the most about you Erik.

\- I try my best. – He nodded.

\- Erik… - She continued on a softer voice.

\- Yes, dear?

\- Did you show Mahtab… to the Daroga?

\- I did. – Erik nodded.

\- What did he say?

\- Nothing. He gasped a bit.

\- See? Maybe her face isn't that bad… I mean… people might not react worse to her than the Daroga.

\- He was prepared to the sight, Christine, only that is how he could stay so calm. And anyway, the Daroga is very good at controlling his emotions.

\- Has he ever… seen your face?

\- He would not have, if it is up to Erik. – He gave an answer not directly saying yes or no, but his answer implied that he was somehow unmasked in front of the Daroga against his will.

\- I am sorry…

\- Don't be. But I'd be happier if you made yourself useful, my dear. Make tea. Please.

Christine obeyed and did not ask about Erik's past any more that morning.

When the Persian arrived to the address Erik gave him, with a bouquet of flowers he brought for Christine, he was amazed by the looks of Erik's home. The house by the lake did not look anything special from the outside, as Erik did not have the opportunity to build a home that meets his imaginations. But this house was breathtaking.

The exterior looked like a gothic Victorian mansion combined with some Greek columns and some Persian lantern- light on the top. It also had a beautiful big balcony on the first floor and huge windows to let light in. The garden had a smaller fountain and some benches around it. The whole house looked like it popped out of a storybook and it contained all the influences Erik has ever met in his life. The Daroga nodded and involuntarily let out a small whistle of joy and delight.

The front door flung wide- open as he wanted to walk closer to the porch and Erik hurried out to greet him.

\- Salam, Mohammed! – He looked rather pleased, and made a small gesture to show the Daroga in.

\- Salam, Erik… what a nice house… incredible…

\- Thank you. – Erik proudly drew himself up and smirked. He loved when his work made such an effect on someone, the Daroga could hardly find his words when saw his house. That house he was so proud of.

Erik did not have anything to be ashamed of about the interior either, it was even much more beautiful than his lake house, with a beautiful grand foyer with a staircase the Daroga could have sworn was taken from the Opera, awesome arches and large, comfortable rooms. Erik guided him through the house, partly because he was pleased about the Daroga's admiration and partly because he thought the Persian actually deserved to see his home now that he accepted his daughter.

When they stepped in the nursery, the Persian smiled contently.

\- She has a very nice room, Erik. You sure made a great job.

\- Only the best for my family. – Erik replied a bit more silently.

\- And… where is our baby? – The Persian asked kindly.

\- Here, asleep. – Erik stepped closer to the cradle. – She has a good habit to sleep with facing her back to the visitors. – He added, letting out a bitter laugh.

\- Erik! – It was Christine's displeased voice.

\- Just kidding. – Erik sighed.

\- May I pet her? – The Daroga took a few steps closer.

\- Just gently not to wake her up. – Erik looked at the Daroga with surprise. Why on Earth would someone other than him and Christine want to touch the thing?

\- Thank you Erik, I will be careful with her. You know that … I know a lot about babies. – Their gaze met for a second and then Mohammed gently caressed the baby's back with his fingers. – Hello Mahtab, my darling. – He added softly.

Erik could not believe his eyes and ears. He knew the Daroga was a good man and he accepted to be his daughter's Godfather, and he also knew he wasn't a squeamish person but he still did not think the Daroga would ever want to touch Mahtab. He guessed their relationship will be similar as his was with his poor unhappy mother – Mahtab will not let to approach the Daroga withing touching range and he will only talk to her.

"Stop, back away! To your place!" – He suddenly heard his mother's cold and desperate voice in his mind. "I said to your place! Don't come so close… do you hear me…? Away!" These words echoed in his ears. "Erik!...Erik….!" Why did she call him Erik…? She did not even know he uses this name….

\- Erik… are you all right? – He lifted his head and looked at the Daroga with a confused look in his eyes. Was the Daroga calling him…? Of course it was… his mother died so long ago… oh those flashbacks… they drive him crazy.

\- Let's go to eat. – He answered, without acknowledging the worried look on Christine's and the Daroga's face.

Christine was a bit of irritated that Erik changed his beliefs so much. He did not even pray before meal, however it was Sunday. She did, despite of everyone else's lack of prayers. It felt a bit awkward, though. The Daroga was very kind during lunch, he complimented the fact that his favorite meal was prepared and he said it was very delicious. Erik did not tell it was him who made it, even though he loved when something he did was complimented. They were mostly silent while eating, and Christine started to feel a bit awkward, so she asked:

\- And… how did you two meet…?

A bit of silence came, then Erik replied.

\- I have already told you. I was working on a palace in his country. By the way one doesn't speak while eating.

The Daroga looked at Erik and gave him a little smile that Erik did not seem to notice. When they were done with the dessert and coffee, the Daroga looked at Christine and he started talking to her about the soon to be relationship between him and Mahtab.

\- When she turns 4 years old, I will read the Koran to her. I will teach her how to pray according to my religion, and she will have to cover her face when she steps outside. She cannot leave the house without a man that accompanies her, but it will be mostly Erik.

\- It doesn't sound too bad. – Christine had to admit. – But I don't want her to cover her face at all. Tell me, please, is she really that bad to look at?

\- Christine… - Erik's voice turned a bit irritated. – You are acting like it wasn't you who said I was unbearable to look at.

\- I admit. – She lowered her head. – That I needed time to get used to and later to love your face, Erik. But…

\- I think it is really the best if she doesn't show her face too much, Christine. – the Persian said softly. – Not everyone is like you and me. But Erik has a good plan for it. Please trust him.

\- Thank you, Mohammed. – Erik looked at the Persian. – This is the second time you surprised Erik today. Um… well… I think I tidy the table a bit. I beg your pardon.

Erik, to hide his embarrassment about being complimented so many times, rose and unset the table then walked out to the kitchen to get rid of the plates and cups. When he left the room, Christine decided to ask the Daroga about something that did not escape her mind.

\- How much do you know about Erik's life in Persia? – She asked softly.

\- A lot. – He said a bit nervously. – What would you like to know, Madame?

\- Who was… Mahtab?

To this question, a second later the sound of shattered china came from the kitchen's direction, then a frustrated and very painful cry of a bass- baritone angelic male voice.

\- I am sorry, just a minute. – Christine rose from her chair and walked to the kitchen where Erik knelt in front of the remaining pieces of one or two coffee cups.

\- Erik… do you need my help? – She asked with worry.

\- NO! – Erik jumped up furiously and he had to control himself not to shake so bad. – I will be at the nursery while the Daroga tells you a bedtime story, my dear Christine… please let me know when you are finished ripping Erik's soul apart… - the tone of his voice was bitter, sarcastic and miserable. He left the kitchen, staggering as if he was drunk.

When Christine returned to the Daroga she was fighting herself for a time whether to ask him again or not, but in the end she decided she will want to hear the story about Mahtab. Erik is mad already just by the fact she asked about her, so she has nothing to lose. Erik will find peace in some days, and she, finally will be calmer to know the truth.

\- Please Daroga… tell me who Mahtab was.

\- Erik… didn't tell you… did he?

\- No. I asked him many times but he refused to answer me.

\- It is a long and sad story. Are you sure you want to hear it?

\- I want to know who my daughter is named of.

\- Well… but please Christine… promise you will love Erik the same as you do now, regardless of what you learn about him. It was so long time ago… and please don't bother him with this story after I tell it to you. It still haunts and tortures his soul and as you see, he doesn't like to talk or think about it.

\- I promise, Daroga. I know Erik had committed things in the past he doesn't talk about and I know he made mistakes… and sins… but the way he talks about this Mahtab… I can't help but makes me curious about her. I want to learn this secret and after we can forget about it.

\- Very well. To answer you shortly: she was a dancer at the court. But I know this doesn't give you much relief, so I tell you she was Erik's first love.

\- Oh, I know he loved her very much. It can be sensed from the way of his intonation, the look in his eyes… a dancer you say?

\- Yes, but you must understand our dancers aren't like the ballet girls in the Opera. They wear a special attire and dance to our music that is so different from the European music. Our dancers are much more sensual. Mahtab was a solo dancer, she entertained the court in the evenings. She was in her late teens and had deep brown eyes, black hair and a very sweet voice. Erik told me he loved her voice the most. Erik, at this time was in his mid- twenties, and a very powerful person in Persia. He met her when he saw a performance of hers once. You see, Erik always loved music and he, despite not really being the soul of a party, liked to come to these evenings, to learn about Persian music and dance. He often sat in the corner, with some music paper and wrote down what he heard and made music sketches. Mahtab was such a great dancer that he instantly remarked she had an effect on him. She was beautiful and very musical. Erik said all her movements were music. He wanted to compose something she can dance for, and when he did, and it was performed, he fell madly in love. The piece Erik wrote, I have to admit, suited Mahtab so well and was better sounding than our original music. It was breath taking to listen to, and watch the girl dance.

Then he requested the court to send him Mahtab for some nights, as he had sleeping problems and he wanted to be entertained and relaxed. She was sent to his suite, many times, and only left in the morning.

\- Did he sleep with her….? – She gasped.

\- He didn't.

\- How do you know? – Christine jumped up with fury. – Did you hold the candle for them?

\- Sit back, Madame.

\- I will ask him about…

\- I said sit back. – The Daroga gently pushed Christine down to the chair. – You promised you will listen to me without interrupting and that you will not talk to Erik about this.

\- All right. – Christine sighed. – How do you know he did not…?

\- He told me he did not. Christine, I know he lied a lot to me, and sometimes, to you too, but then, I know he was honest. He talked to me about their pure love and that they talked about music. Erik talked to her about European music, gave her examples of the great composer's work. He learned about Persian music, and taught her to French language. They were talking until dawn, and playing music. He watched her dance. She laughed and was very kind to Erik. She was a kind girl. But don't be jealous of her, Christine. Erik's first lov, of course, had a great effect on his life, and as he had no negative sides of their short relationship, he remembers the nice memories about her. But that doesn't mean he loved her more than you. I know he loves you more.

\- Did she see his face?

\- No. Erik refused to show it to her, but she did not force to see it. But she knew why Erik didn't want to show it.

\- What has happened to her…?

\- Well… Erik fell in love so much that he did not want to leave Mahtab in Persia when his work came to an end. They only had some weeks before the palace was done and Erik planned to take Mahtab with him to Europe and marry her. Of course, you see, Mahtab was the Shah's property. She wasn't allowed to leave Persia with someone… especially not with someone without belief. Erik tried to keep that in secret and only told me what he was up to. I did not tell it to anyone. I should have, if I was a loyal servant to the Shah, but to be honest, I thought Erik deserved a girl, and I did not want to ruin his happiness… but someone of his servants overheard us… he wasn't careful enough.

The Daroga lowered his head and fought back some tears as he bit his lips.

\- What has happened to the girl….?

\- When they learned about Erik's plan, she was caught and sent to prison. That is why he was sentenced to death. Trying to steal the Shah's property.

\- What? – Christine gasped. – Not because of he killed people….?

\- No. The reason was Mahtab. I would have agreed him to be punished for the other sins he committed… but I felt he can't be punished for THIS. That is why… I made that little comedy with the corpse on the shore and helped him to flee. It would not have been righteous to die for something he did not do. And only because he loved someone.

\- Did Mahtab… die?

\- Yes. – The Daroga said softly. – She was asked about her loyalty for the Shah. They asked her three times if she stays or she goes with Erik. If she says she is loyal to the Shah, she would have been sent back to the palace, and not to see Erik ever again, and only Erik would have been punished, but she said she loved Erik and wanted to be with him. And if he was sentenced to death, she wanted to die as well. She said Erik was the most loving man she ever met and wanted to marry him in Europe, live like a French wife to him. When she was dragged back to her cell and passed Erik, she started singing "La Marseillaise" out loud. She sang some French songs in her cell as well. Erik cried for hours.

\- How did she… die?

\- She was to be thrown into the Torture Chamber Erik has designed, and Erik was to be watched it.

\- God! – Christine screamed.

\- In the evening I went to Erik's suite to arrest him… and saw all his servants on the floor… lifelessly. Their tongue was cut out and placed next to them. In Persia that is how you accused someone of betrayal. I knew I was too late. I frantically searched for Erik, as I thought he has committed suicide, but I could not find his body. I ran with my people to the prison to check on Mahtab…. And then… I saw that sad scene.

\- What? – Christine cried. – What happened…?

\- Mahtab was already dead by the time I got there. Erik cradled her lifeless body in his arms, humming to her. She was suffocated to death as I could see on the body. He killed her before we could have. I wanted to take her out of his hands, but he yelled at me "Get thee gone! Leave my dead wife in peace! I am singing her Requiem!" He then turned back to Mahtab and gently kissed her forehead, then continued to hum the Requiem… for her dead wife. I sent everyone away…. And did not arrest him. I sat next to him as he was quietly stroke her now pale face, and kept repeating: "Oh, how beautiful you are… my dead wife as beautiful as she was alive… I did not kiss you alive… but kissed you when you died. " Hours passed and Erik finally let her go… he was too tired to think of himself. My heart broke and I just told him he will be kept in another prison a bit further. I told everyone I am taking him to his cell and only when we were outside, I told him my plan about his flee. He was too worn out emotionally to say anything, but I hoped he will be a good man once and lead a life he deserves… as he deserves a good life, Christine.

\- Now… I can see why didn't he want to talk about this… this is awful… this is…. Oh, poor Erik…. Poor unhappy Erik…! – She sobbed and jumped up from her seat.

\- No, no… Christine… wait. Please wait… will you? – The Persian gently caught Christine's hand. – Don't go to him like this. He will hate the situation… he is already mad, you should not make him feel even more miserable. Please… go to somewhere else in the house and calm down a bit… I will take care of Erik and talk to him.

\- You… might be… right…

Christine sniffed and slowly went to the music room upstairs. Soft piano playing could be heard… Chopin's Funeral March.

There was a short knock on the nursery's door some minutes later.

\- Come in. – Erik groaned. He was a bit of surprised to see the Daroga standing there nstead of a hysterical Christine.

\- Erik… do you have a chessboard?

\- Chessboard? What for? – He gasped.

\- You know… we had thoughtful and great conversations over a chess party. You remember them…?

\- Yes… and they always made me feel better. – Erik lifted his head and smiled. – I have a chess table in my study. Follow me.

They wentto Erik's study and sat down to play chess.

\- Are you the black? – The Daroga smiled.

\- Yes, Erik is always black. – He nodded. – So you start. Did you tell her? – his voice was mechanical again.

\- Yes… I did.

\- How did she react? – Erik's voice turned so tired and soft as he was dying.

\- Fairly well. Look, I told her that… you loved her more than… Mahtab.

\- I don't know… why everyone measures my love for others. – He took a step with his queen to hit the Daroga's horse.

\- I am not measuring it Erik… but she seemed to be a bit of jealous. You must understand that she was just curious.., and she had the right to know about why you named your daughter "Mahtab". Now she does. But I asked her not to talk to you about this, Erik.

\- Thank you. – Erik let out a relieved sigh. – And thank you for telling her… Erik… wasn't strong enough. He tried to… once… but his throat closed up at the thought and could not say a single word… and he felt he was about to vomit. So he rather did not bother any more.

\- Now you can forget about it, Erik.

\- I hope so. – He sighed and put a piece forcefully in front of the Daroga with a childish grin: - Mate. And with that, the play had ended.

When the Daroga left the house, and Erik turned back from the front door his eye caught Christine standing behind him. She did not say a word, but walked closer and hugged him from behind, and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter VI.

After Christine had finally learned a small slice of Erik's past, she calmed in a way and left Erik in peace. She learned it is better if she doesn't bother her husband about his past – only bad things come out of it. His earlier life was far from a pleasant one, it was a chain of various tragedies. They rather should concentrate on the future – the future with their daughter, raising Mahtab in peace, like a real loving family.

Mahtab was a good little baby and mostly slept nights through – until the beginning of Summer 1886. She was about 8 months old and she became a little whiny thing. She would cry for hours, day and night. She would chew on everything that was put near her, Erik just let her chew on his thumb sometimes, he said, he did it to make her stop whining for some minutes. She was drooling "like a rabid dog" and did not sleep too much. Erik, to be honest, was surprised he had such a good girl until that, he expected Mahtab to be a problem child from the beginning, so he wasn't surprised of the change in her behavior.

Many nights passed with him holding Mahtab on his lap, while she was screaming from the top of her lungs. He softly hummed to her, but his voice did not seem to be enough anymore to calm her. Christine and him took turns in taking care of the baby at nights, but if Christine was asleep, Erik did not have the heart to wake her up, and rather he got up to calm the child.

One day, when Erik gave his thumb to Mahtab to silence her for a time, he met an unpleasant surprise. She bit him. So that is why she is fussing so much – her teeth are coming out.

\- Are you screaming about ONE tooth? Really? You are childish. Papa has thirty- two or such teeth and he doesn't do this concert at night… oh, you, you little monster… Papa's little monster you are…- He talked to Mahtab with half scolding and half jokey intonation.

\- Don't call her a monster! – Christine appeared behind him and shook her head.

\- I am just joking with her, Christine.

\- It is not funny. – She argued.

\- Darling, it is just Erik's usual sense of humor. You could have gotten used to it, Christine my sweet.

\- I don't like when you are making fun of the child's look. You played "I got your nose" with her yesterday.

\- Christine, you are a bit of over sensitive about this. I learned to joke about my own and the child's misfortune, without meaning any harm. You should be happy I can finally take it less seriously.

\- Yet you still want to put a bag on her head…

\- Must we always argue about something, Christine? Am I not worn out enough because lack of sleep for weeks…?

\- You tolerated lack of sleep for weeks better when you worked on your Don Juan!

\- I know, but it wasn't good for my health regardless.

\- It did not wear you out this way, but your child does. You don't like her. Still.

\- Christine, do you think I'd spend so much time with her if I did not like her? Just because I am tired I still love her.

He sighed and placed Mahtab in Christine's arms.

\- But if you think Erik is such a bad father, you should take care of her. Here you go, play with her something that won't hurt her feelings. As I am… most certainly… a monster… that hurts his own kid… on purpose.

He left the room and Christine just sat down to the rocking chair next to the cradle with the baby who was still grumpy a bit. She knew Erik actually did mean well and she should not have talked to him the way she did, but her feelings were hurt as well because Erik called the baby a monster always. She did not like that word. It was an insult and Erik should not insult the girl. She will grow older and will understand what her father calls her…

Christine was shocked that she wasn't able to calm the baby. She could handle her so well until these days and weeks, but it seemed the little girl HATED her. Whenever Christine picked her up she was crying even harder and she sang her lullabies but Mahtab wasn't even paying attention to her mother any more. Her stroking was useless, she could cradle Mahtab all she wanted… but when Erik finally got home and picked up the baby and started talking or singing to her, she got a lot calmer. Some grumpiness could be sensed cause of her teeth, but she ADORED Erik and her Papa could always bring a smile to her deformed little face.

Her first smile was for Erik as well. It happened when Erik picked her up once and played with her in the air, she smiled and giggled at her father. He looked at her touched and delighted. Her daughter smiled at him – he could see a child's first smile… whatever the child looks like.

One day Christine got out to the hall to the sight that Erik is holding Mahtab up to the mirror on the wall. She was looking at her deformed little face with surprise.

\- See, my dear, it is you. – Erik said. – Look, here are your eyes. And ears… and lips… usually people have a nose too, but you don't. Don't worry about it, though, you can live without it, as Papa can as well.

Erik did not wear his mask either. Since the baby was born he did not really go close to the little girl without wearing a mask, as he was afraid he would scare her, but he had a sudden idea about Mahtab should get used to both his and her own face, so he looked into the mirror, holding his baby girl. Maybe it will be a way he will somehow accept his face as well, finally? He avoided mirrors like the plague, but he should really grow it out. He is in his fifties and is a father now… he should stop being a coward.

\- What are you doing…? You are scaring her…

\- Thank you Christine, dear, you lift Erik's spirits.

\- I am sorry. – She whispered as she realized she insulted Erik and the child without her intention.

\- I show her face to her, so that she won't have the same shock as I did when I was a child.

\- She doesn't know yet it is her.

\- I know well, Christine, but she should see her face regularly so she gets used to it.

\- What happened to you… as a child…?

\- It was a too sudden sight for me, my face. That is all.

\- When did you see it for the first time?

\- Too late. I was a child. I guess I was around 6 or 7.

\- How comes you did not know about your face?

\- No one showed it to me. I had to wear the mask around my poor unhappy mother. – He looked down to Mahtab then continued. - Not because she hated me, as I said. She was scared of me, of course… but you see, there are those… accidental mirrors around you. If you aren't looking into a mirror… you can still see your face sometimes. In a window, in water… and she wanted to protect me from looking at my own face as well…. Not just because she did not want to look at me. She was worried my own face will scare me. I wasn't aware of this precaution, being just a kid, Christine… and… I thought I looked like anyone else. You see… I never saw myself before that, only the mask. So I guessed I looked just as my mother, for example, and I just had to wear a mask… for some reason. Oh, those happy years of my sweet… unawareness… - he sighed and stroke Mahtab's face with his thumb.

\- How did you realize… you look like this…?

\- One day… on a very hot day in the summer… you see the mask was very uncomfortable to wear, too hot… and I removed it. My mother wasn't around… and I just put it in my pocket to be able to put it back on when I meet mother. And… I accidentally passed that damned mirror. It did not frighten me before… as I only saw a mask in it before… it was located near the top of the stairs on the wall in the hall of our house… And… when I saw that awful face… I remember… just screaming… then… I fell… I fell back.

\- Did you fell from the stairs…? – Christine gasped.

\- I did.

\- Did you… get injured…?

\- Both emotionally and physically, yes.

\- How… bad it was?

\- Quite, Christine. I… needed much time to recover… weeks. The worst wasn't broken bones or concussion though… the worst was… I was so scared… Christine… I could not speak for days… at all… I was terrified I will never speak again.

\- God! Oh Erik… how did you… get cured?

\- I slowly calmed down enough to speak. And then I stuttered. It drove my mother crazy. She told me I had gone totally crazy, just as it was expected as I was a little devil since my birth. She wasn't surprised. She was surprised I was normal up until that. She scolded me for removing the mask. She told me that is why she wanted me to wear it….

\- How did you get cured from stuttering? Who helped you?

\- There was no one to help Erik, he helped himself.

\- How? As such a little child…?

\- Yes, I cured myself from stuttering, as it drove me crazy as well. I sounded like an idiot. I tried to speak more coherently by force, I talked slow but steady- and… I cured myself with singing.

\- Singing? – Christine gasped. – How can it help?

\- Singing requires you to speak following a rhythm and pace. You simply don't have time to stutter. If you practice, it gets better. And it someday will disappear. It is not a hundred- percent method though, as I sometimes still do stutter a bit when I am extremely upset.

\- Oh my poor Erik… you had… a horrible childhood.

\- All Erik's life before meeting you, my dear, was a horrible mess. That is why I want to teach her to learn to look at herself without fear. I don't want to make the same mistake as my mother did with me.

Mahtab reached out for the mirror with her tiny hand and touched the glass where it reflected her lack of nose. She knocked it a few times then giggled.

\- See? She is actually amused. It is a good thing. She connects her face with good memories she won't even remember as she is too small yet. But she will have the feeling deep inside her heart Christine. She will be balanced and happy – as happy as she can be.

\- Erik… you really love her. – Christine walked close to him, smiling happily and put her hand on his shoulder.

\- I do. Very much. And I love her more, day by day. She is Papa's little daughter. – He let out a small laugh and hugged her closer to himself.

Mahtab's cries reduced during the day, finally, but they continued at night. She was crying and slept very little as she was in pain.

One night, Christine woke up at midnight once and realized Erik wasn't next to her in bed. She wasn't worried, as it was common that Erik woke up at night and did not sleep with her. Maybe he went to see the baby.

It was hard to convince him to sleep with her at all. He did not want to sleep in the same bed with her after the wedding. She guessed that he will want to spend their wedding night with her, but to her huge surprise, Erik kissed her forehead, asked for her forgiveness and left the Louis- Philippe room. She did not dare to and did not really want to follow him. When they built the house, he wanted to plan a separate bedroom for himself, just as in the house by the lake, and when Christine asked why, he simply answered he did not consider a bedroom they would share. He thought, Christine did not want to. And he did not want to make a beautiful woman, such as her, share her bed with a monster. "You are not a monster, Erik… you are my husband." That was the first time Erik heard her calling him her husband. As he heard that, and made sure, several times, almost driving Christine crazy with his constant unstable questions, Erik finally accepted the thought of a bedroom with his living wife. But he still did not find it comfortable. He did not dare to tell Christine about his fears and uncomfortable feelings, but he would rather chose to sleep in his study. In the first few months of their marriage, his constant nightmares caused him to toss and turn a lot, and he startled up with a gasp or a scream, so he told Christine, he temporarily will go to spend the nights on the couch in his study not to bother her. In these days, Erik finally slept next to Christine mostly, yet he still had some "episodes" as he called them, and sometimes he would disappear for the night.

That is why Christine wasn't too worried – he will be fine and come back when he feels better. But in the morning she did not run into Erik anywhere in the house. He did not make coffee or tea in the kitchen, as usual, he did not emerge from the bathroom, did not put his coat or shoes on in the hallway – he was gone. Disappeared. It wasn't even time for him to leave for work yet. He did not say anything about having to work earlier…

He arrived home in normal time in the evening, but did not say anything about where he was so early in the morning. Though he looked like much more relaxed, compared to his tiredness the days before. He was HAPPY. He bought a bouquet of flowers for her. Why? Because he wanted to be nice…? It wasn't unusual of him to bring flowers after a performance she had, or when he wanted to apologize for something, or on special occasions… but that day it was neither… or was it he really wanted to say sorry? For what?

This went on for two weeks – Erik disappeared at some time at night, she never woke up to the noise of him sneaking out of bed and the house, and only returned the next evening from work, leaving her alone with Mahtab who cried all night.

Where is he going at night? What the Hell is he doing at all? She got jealous and upset. She did not ask him directly about it, but sometimes remarked "I did not find you in bed, Erik, dear, when I woke up at night." To this, Erik replied with a totally recognizable cheap lie, something like he went to check how Mahtab was (of course, Erik, she was whining all night, you did not touch her…) or he was in the bathroom (for eight hours…?) She knew something wasn't all right and he lies about something. He had a secret. She did not like it at all, and decided to find out what was going on.

That night he did not even lay down with her. He said he had a headache, his stomach was bothering him a bit and felt a bit of sick, maybe his dinner did not agree with him, and he did not want to bother Christine with his moaning, so he was going to sleep in his study. She knew he did not exactly tell the truth, and that he was up to something again.

She pretended to go to sleep and was waiting anxiously and wide- awake, near the backdoor, ready to follow Erik. She put on a cloak to hide her face and wore black not to be too visible, so maybe Erik won't notice her. She learned this from Erik when he was haunting the Opera.

As Mahtab was screaming for maybe half an hour, she suddenly heard him leaving the house and saw him walking out to the garden. When he closed the garden gate, she jumped out of the backdoor, bent down and tried to hurry as silently as she could, to see where he was going. "Stomach pain, you say…? I will teach you not to go on little rendez- vous at night, Monsieur…." She muttered under her breath, and she felt sorry she did not take anything with her to hit him on the head with. "Don Juan Triumphant, are you…?"

Erik fetched a cab. She was looking at him from behind a tree and was listening carefully. "Take me to the Opera." Erik said to the driver and got in. The Opera? What for…? She was still on maternity leave, he wasn't the Opera Ghost any more… he did not have anything to do at the Opera at that hour, as the play was already halfway to the end, by the time he gets there, it will end. He promised her to lead a normal life, finally. Was he lying? Is he still blackmailing the managers? Maybe he isn't even working during the day…?

Worriedly she fetched a cab as well and asked to be taken to the Opera. She carefully looked around when she arrived, but Erik was already gone from the streets. Where to find him? The house by the lake was empty in these days and he built a wall to block the front door so no one could enter it any more after the wedding. She saw it herself. All the furniture Erik wanted to keep were moved to their new home. Only the coffin, and some unimportant pieces of furniture were left there. And the organ. Erik was sorry for the organ. He bought a harmonium though and set it up in the music room, but he did not really like it. "It is not the same, Christine, not the same…" he sighed sometimes. She doubted he was in the house by the lake as he cannot enter it any more… but after some minutes of thinking, it hit her like a thunder: Erik had another entrance to his house! The stone on the wall in the third cellar! Raoul and the Persian went there when they dropped into the torture chamber! She will try to go there- and see what happens. So good she did not bring Mahtab. She would cry loud and it would echo here in the cellars so they would be caught. She was searching for that stone and tapped the wall. She put her ear on the wall to hear something. The Daroga has told earlier he heard when Erik spoke in his house when he was standing here… but she heard nothing. He isn't here…?

She found the stone finally, after a very long time as she sensed time passing… or was she just upset and worried? She leaned a bit in the hole to listen again… but nothing could be heard. She carefully climbed in to jump down… and she tripped on something and fell. With a loud thud she reached the ground – she forgot to remove her shoes before jumping. She gasped a bit from fright and pain as she sat on the floor in the dark.

\- Erik… ? – She asked softly.

No answer. She slowly stood up as she felt pain in her right ankle. She dragged herself to the wall and banged on it.

\- Erik! Erik! Are you here? Let me out! Erik!

After some minutes, she could hear the knocking of a pair of shoes getting closer and closer towards her. The footsteps echoed unnaturally loud in the emptiness of the once Louis- Philippe room.

\- Erik? – She asked hopefully. No answer came, but the door got open. A dark figure stood in the doorway, only a shadow, but he could not be mistaken with anyone else with his skeletal build. – Oh you are here… - She let out a sigh of relief.

\- You knew well I was here. – He said coldly. – It took you long to get here. What were you doing? The cab with you left just after mine.

\- You… saw me…?

\- Erik isn't blind. And you are very noisy. – He shook his head.

\- It took me some time to find the stone…

\- Three hours, exactly.

\- Why are you so cold…? You did not even ask if I got hurt.

\- Did you? – He asked on a bored voice.

\- I think I hurt my ankle… when I fell.

\- Congratulations. – he turned around and walked away.

\- Erik! Don't leave me here! Do you hear me…?

Some minutes passed with her calling Erik's name but there was no reply. After a while he got back and knelt down next to Christine.

\- Stop yelling. – He ordered coldly. He examined her leg and nodded. – You sprained it.

\- See? I got hurt because I was following you! – She accused her husband.

\- Who asked you? – He retorted angrily.

\- What are you doing here? – She went on. – This house is empty…

\- I know. But it has peace and calm, something my home lacks at this moment.

\- You… compose…? – She asked curiously.

\- I sleep. If you'd leave me.

\- You come here to sleep?

\- As I can't sleep at home. – Erik paused. – Wait… where is.. the child…?

\- At home.

\- Alone? – He gasped.

\- Yes… why… it was you who said… nothing happens to a child if….

\- It was back then when I did not like her that much. Or as I thought so… But you… you who seem to adore her… since her birth… you who constantly keep accusing Erik of hating her… how could you? Just because you are playing "follow the leader", eh?

\- You are playing hide and seek! You disappear every night and I don't even know where you are!

\- Here Erik is, you can be satisfied now. He is trying to sleep and relax. Now I will take you out and carry you home. – he groaned.

\- Erik, don't be like this. You are so angry.

\- Why would I be, Just because you stalk and spy on Erik? Just because you don't leave him be?

\- I was worried…

\- Just because you ABANDON our child? – He hissed.

She fell silent. She knew Erik was right and she felt ashamed. What kind of a mother is she…?

\- And you woke Erik up. – He added bitterly.

\- Oh! You didn't have to come and rescue me. – She got back to anger as she felt Erik insulted her. – I would have opened the door by myself as well.

\- Really? – Erik laughed. – I know you are a clever girl. Then… open it, my dear. Erik won't deny the opportunity from you. Come out of the torture chamber, my sweet girl… - He turned away without a single more word and left the room, then closed the door.

\- Erik! – She yelled. – Erik I got injured! Erik….

\- You don't need your ankle to open the door. – The sarcastic reply came from the other side of the door. – Your argument is invalid.

Christine frantically searched for a switch on the floor and on the wall for a time, it seemed such a long time she thought it was for hours. She banged desperately on the wall and screamed. The door finally opened. She was happy for some minutes that she accidentally did find the switch, but there was Erik, again.

\- Erik…

\- Are you finished? – He sighed.

\- Erik help me please… I should not have told you that I could do it alone… I can't…

\- Well – well, we are not that angry anymore? I did not even activate the torture chamber and you still cannot open a door? – He shook his head, laughing. – My dear Christine, you learned the lesson?

\- Lesson? – She sniffed.

\- Yes. The lesson of not to make Erik angry when he is already worn out.

\- I was worried about you.

\- Were you? – He suddenly changed his intonation. – I thought you were trying to catch Erik doing something wrong and punish him for something he did not do.

\- Well, I did not know why you leave the house at night and I wanted to make sure you were all right.

Silence. Erik was thinking. He scratched his head several times, then he looked at Christine and knelt down beside her again.

\- Erik is sorry. – He whispered. – He is so terribly sorry…. He lost his temper and… hurt your feelings… when Christine was only trying to make sure he was… all right… - Erik crawled closer and took Christine's hand then kissed it.

\- Oh Erik… my poor… poor Erik. – She hugged the man's skull like head and stroke the few locks of his thin hair.

\- We should go home my dear… - Erik stood up finally after crying for a while in Christine's arms. – Our daughter must be missing us.

He carried her to the street in his arms and looked at her with pleading puppy eyes to ask for her forgiveness and Christine hugged his neck. She leaned her head against his bony shoulder and heard Erik's relieved sigh. He put her gently on the seat of the cab he fetched to take them home and on the way home he looked at her with a mix of adoration and guilt. At home he carried her to the bedroom lay her down, then kissed her cheek and before he left the room to go to the nursery to calm the screaming baby girl he looked back to his wife and softly whispered:

\- I love you Christine.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter VII.

The baby finally calmed down after some weeks. She had 4 teeth by the time summer ended. As she stopped her mini concerts, Erik felt way better. However Christine realized Erik had way too much weight on his shoulders before, when she lay on the living room couch after she sprained her ankle in Erik's old home that night. She just saw what Erik is doing day by day and she felt a bit of ashamed as she felt she isn't helping him enough. He was taking care of the baby in the morning, took breakfast for Christine, kissed her, ran to work, returned in the evening, played with and nursed Mahtab again, then he either made or brought dinner, he ate, did the washing up, tidied the house, then sat down beside Christine. At the end of the day he just collapsed in the armchair next to the couch and she could instantly hear him drift away. He fell asleep the second he got seated.

Of course, Christine did most of the housework when she could walk normally, but it somehow turned out that Mahtab was nearly always Erik's to take care of, and well, such a small baby needs a lot of caretaking. He was left alone with her so that he will like her more, as Christine thought, and she enjoyed to watch them together. And within time, he got such a routine in taking care of a baby that Christine could not stop being amazed by it. Some months before Erik did not even dare to touch the baby as he was afraid he will hurt or drop her, but in those days he changed her diapers and bathed her just as he was doing it in all his life.

When she finally could walk without pain, Christine took more part in nursing the baby, and she decided she will do things that Erik used to do for himself before, to make his life easier. One morning Erik woke up to her carrying a cup of hot tea to the bed for him, and gently kissing his cold bony cheek to wake him up.

\- Am I late? – He sat up nervously, desperately searching for his pocket watch.

\- No, my dear. – She smiled and laughed a bit. – I just let you sleep in a bit today. But don't worry, I cleaned your shoes and ironed your shirt for you.

\- Thank you, my treasure. – He smiled a bit embarrassedly. – But you should not have troubled yourself over Erik.

He always reacted this way when Christine did something for him, while he constantly did this to Christine. He took breakfast to bed many times for her, he treated her like a princess and watched each of her wishes. He thought it was something that Christine deserved, especially after such a selfless act of marrying him, the monster, but he did not feel himself worthy of such kindness and thoughtfulness – he, as an old bachelor, was used to taking care of himself, and he would say "I did not marry you so I have a maid, Christine… Erik is capable of looking after himself…" - It made him happy and touched in a way, but he rather felt uncomfortable and too much spoiled if this happened.

He left the house relaxed and happy because of this kind gesture and as he got to sleep more on that day. Even that half an hour did help. As he arrived home, instead of the usual "mess" (he would think two plates left on the dining table a mess he had to clean up that instant), he found the house in a perfect condition and Mahtab nice and clean, which did not really happen since the baby's birth, and there was a box of his favorite cigars on the desk in his study (Erik did not smoke on a regular basis, but from time to time he enjoyed a good cigar, especially if he was very tired or anxious, it helped him to relax and forget about the bothering thoughts.) He had to smile. He looked on the calendar to make sure it wasn't their wedding anniversary already. A sudden uncomfortable feeling got nested in his heart that he had forgotten about it, but thank God, it wasn't until the next week.

The 13th August 1881 was their wedding day, and its anniversary fell on a Friday in 1886. Erik always thought every 13th of any month to be his lucky day, especially since their wedding, but this anniversary was double special. Friday the 13th was miserably unlucky for other people, but it was always Erik's favorite day of the year. He liked it because everyone else loathed it – he had a habit of finding everything unpopular to be his favorite thing ever.

Christine had mixed feelings about their wedding anniversaries during their marriage so far.

On their wedding day she didn't know if she was dead or alive, but she most certainly wasn't a happy and excited bride. Back then she only felt that she "owed" Erik this wedding day, she "had to" and eventually will love him. She would have hoped so, at least. After he released her with Raoul and showed her how much he really loved her, she thought, the only way to repay him and show love he deserved was to marry him. After she told this to Raoul, he got so angry and threw a bad tantrum, not even better than Erik back in his jealousy fits. They had a nasty fight in which Raoul stated that Christine "has to marry him after all the mess he went through just to save her from that monster.", and after he found out his brother, Philippe disappeared as well, and later, found dead, he blamed Christine for the happenings. It hurt her like coal squeezed right into her heart… at first Raoul calling Erik a monster… then all the things he called her as well… a murderer, a troublemaker… he told her he had been there with her through thick or thin… and accused Christine of betrayal and told her his brother, Philippe had been right about they should have never met in their lives, to begin with. "If I didn't go to the Opera that night, my poor brother would still be alive."

His bitter words echoed in her ear and heart and she did the only thing she found correct: she left and married Erik. She never told her husband what the Viscount did exactly say. She was afraid for his safety as she was sure Erik would search for him and called him on a duel or just simply kill him.

On that bright sunny day at the Madeleine, she did not even hear the ceremony, or any of Erik's mass. He composed one for them that was played on their wedding, but she did not remember a note of it. Her heart still ached for Raoul and she was afraid of what will follow this unusual wedding. Erik, even though that was all he wanted, did not really seem to be happy at all, either. He stood next to Christine as he was just tossed there, and he did not kiss her, just imitated a theatrical kiss, and then turned his head away from her as fast as possible. As he later admitted, he did not DARE to. He did not believe that was really happening and did not want to scare Christine away.

However strange and unpleasant the actual wedding was for both of them, and the few months that followed, the first anniversary was something they both remembered back with happiness. As time passed, Christine learned to love Erik, and each and every anniversary became better than the one before.

That fifth one that came, and the first with Mahtab in their lives, turned out to be special, but not the way Erik would expect and want it to be.

He planned to sneak out in the morning, before Christine wakes up, to bring her flowers… thousands of flowers. He always gave Christine all the flowers possible he could buy, just as back on the night of their first meeting when he took her down to his house. Christine, now actually had to laugh every time she recalled Erik's skeletal form, dressed in his finest evening clothes, in the middle of those mountains of flowers. This memory just repeated itself on every wedding anniversary they had – she just laughed when she walked out to the living room to find those flowers again and again.

So he wanted to buy flowers after he tidies the baby. But when he picked her up, he instantly had a feeling something wasn't all right this time. The usual coldness of the baby was gone, and she was rather warm. Not even warm. She was HOT.

Fever… She was feverish!

Erik panicked. He suddenly felt his heart sinking with fear, and held the baby with trembling hands. He recalled the night of Mahtab's birth, and his thoughts about the newborn, before he went to sleep that night: "There are so many children's disease … smallpox, diphtheria, sudden infant death syndrome… "Guilt and self-loathing gripped his heart like a strong hand, and it did not want to let it go. His throat closed up, he felt dizzy…

Now will God really take her? It is his fault. Only his fault. Why did he have to think this way? Why could he not love her from the beginning? A monster like him does not even deserve a child… whatever that said child may or may not look like, by the way… he gets it because he could not love her from the moment of her birth. He deserves it very much, as he deserves every bad thing that happens to him… but Mahtab does not deserve to pass away, especially not at such a young age…

But after some minutes, he finally calmed down a bit. No, he should not panic. He has to measure her temperature at first. Not each and every feverish child dies…

He shut his emotions off, he only concentrated to the problem itself, and the solution. He examined Mahtab, even though it wasn't an easy job with a less than one year old baby. You could so easily tell a bigger child to stay still and open her mouth… "Why aren't you some older…?" – He thought. Finally he could see her throat was red. Sure she had some sort of cold. He did not really like the thought, but checked her lack of nose as well. Yes, it was now obvious, she had a cold.

\- You chose just the most accurate time to fell ill, my little monster. – He sighed and headed to the bathroom to cool down his little one's tiny body.

When Christine woke up, she smiled in advance for the many acts of love she was going to find during the day. She yawned and lazily turned to her side to check the clock on the mantelpiece. It was half past seven. She did not want to get up too early, not to ruin her husband's surprise for her, but Erik usually finished by this time, so she decided to get up and prepare herself for the day.

She wanted to look just as elegant as Erik must be, so she put her finest clothes on, and combed her hair to a perfect and fashionable hair-do. But as soon as she stepped out of the bedroom in her full glory, she saw nothing special. She entered the drawing room, but it was empty and there were nothing to celebrate the special day – no flowers, no wine, not even a note from Erik.

Did he just forget it and left? How on Earth could he forget this important date? Sure, Erik was a bit of a scatter-brain sometimes, especially if he was composing or working hard on some blueprints, or examining static reports of some building, but it never happened before that their wedding anniversary escaped his mind. A bit of disappointedly she sat down in an armchair and suddenly heard Mahtab's cry.

\- The baby! – She jumped up nervously – God, I forgot about her…

"What a selfish little thing am I… I blame Erik for forgetting about our day, when I forget about something much more important…" – this was running through her mind while she was heading towards the nursery to check on the baby when she suddenly stopped from utter surprise.

She saw Erik standing beside the cradle, worriedly, and putting a tiny wet cloth on the baby's small forehead. He did not wear anything special, he was only in rolled – up shirt sleeves, without a mask or a fake nose. He was gently rocking the cradle, softly humming the Peasant's choir from _Nabucco._

\- Erik… what has happened? – She approached them with growing fear.

\- The child has a fever, my dear. Nothing serious though, only a medium case of nasal infection that is slowly going down to her throat.

\- So…?

\- She has a cold, to be simple. We'd better get used to it, my dear, Erik also had the misfortune to be constantly sick with his "nose" and ears in his childhood. I could have expected the same with my daughter. I just can hope her ear isn't hurting. Too bad she cannot tell it yet.

\- Were you sick often as a baby?

\- Yes, dear, to be honest, I still am, from time to time. There are years I am fine, but in some years Erik tends to catch a cold even before he gets cured from the previous one he already caught.

\- Do you need me here?

\- Oh thank you, my sweet Christine, but Erik is taking care of the situation. I am sorry I could not go out and make preparations but once she feels a bit better, Erik shall make up for it and spoil his sweet wife. – He smiled.

\- Don't worry about this my dear. – Christine smiled back at him, and left the room with a sudden idea.

She did not let the worry for her child to lay on her soul for the day. She decided if Erik can't go out and surprise her… then she should be the one to surprise HIM!

Erik spent a day full of worry and nursing a whiny little nose-less monster. He had to bathe her in cooler water several times to make her fever go down, he fed her that ended up the baby food all over him, the child and the room, because of the baby's sneezing and stuffed nose constantly was bothering her with eating, he had to carefully clean the baby's nose in every few minutes… How he loathed the process even for himself… But that day, he only prayed that Mahtab will feel better as soon as possible. Not because of the inconveniences her sickness might cause – but because he did not like to see his beloved little one suffer. Even though he knew that the baby will be all right, and it was the first time it got sick, and that he will see her sick many more times in her life, it was still painful to see her that way. Such a helpless little thing, yearning for love and comfort…

When the baby finally fell asleep and her temperature was better than during the day, Erik wiped his forehead with his handkerchief and decided to spend some time with Christine. As he tidied himself, rolled down his sleeves and put on his tailcoat and a bow tie to be a suitable companion for Christine, he smelled something very delicious. He hadn't eaten the whole day, and to be honest, he was a bit of hungry. He walked to the dining room where he found his beautiful wife in perfect clothes and with nicely done hair, with a bottle of great Tokay wine and freshly prepared meal. There was a big bouquet of red rose on the center of the table, and she was smiling at him so kindly.

\- Christine… - He swallowed from being too touched and hungry at the same time.

\- Come here, my dear Erik, dinner is ready. – She smiled.

\- I… thank you, Christine… - He sat down with his hands shaking from great excitement.

They had a great time together, looking back at memories they shared and having a delicious dinner Christine made herself. Five years together and now, they even have a child. Can it be any better? After dinner and some time to talk they went to the music room to sing together for a time. Christine missed the stage, and loved to sing with Erik anyway. They sang love duets and were happier than ever before. But the surprise did not end for Erik yet. Christine stepped behind his back as he sat at the piano, and gently kissed the top of his head. She leaned closer to his ear and said:

\- Do you know what you get from me?

\- Does Erik get something from his sweet wife… anything else? – He turned to face her, with partly childishly curious, partly guilty expression.

\- Yes, you do. – Christine took a box out from under a piles of sheet music on one of the shelves. – Open it, Erik. – She gave it to him like an excited child on Mother's Day, and examined Erik's every movement as he untied the ribbon and lifted the top of the box off. He seemed to be real curious about its contents.

He rarely got a gift in all his life and since he was with Christine, he always got something for his Birthday (quite rare occasion it was though), for Christmas and for their anniversary. It filled him with so much happiness he could not even imagine before. As he saw what was in the box he let out a joyful, high – pitched scream, just like a boy who finally got that set of toy soldiers he was eyeing in the storefront of the toy shop for months. They were the cutest things he ever saw. They were so personal, he could not find the correct words to thank them. They were treble clef shaped cuff-links made of silver. He instantly changed the ones he currently wore to the new ones and could not stop staring at his hands for a while. He only lifted his head to Christine's giggle.

\- Oh, darling… how could Erik thank you for this precious gift? This is going to be his favorite pair… how did you find them, my love?

\- It was the hand of fate, my dear. Actually I saw them quite a while ago and I just waited for the perfect occasion to give them to you.

\- Thank you dear… but…. Erik is sorry… he wanted to go get something for you, but… he couldn't… you see. – He lowered his head in shame but he suddenly felt a hand on his bony shoulder.

\- Erik, you already gave me a gift today.

\- What?

\- You proved that you loved our daughter and took care of her so wholeheartedly all day. It show me how you feel for her and just seeing you two together was the biggest gift for me.

He did not say anything else, just hugged his wife tight, but in his mind he decided she will get something precious for their anniversary as soon as he can leave the house to buy her the perfect gift- just as perfect as his living wife was.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter VIII,

Sadly, Erik was right about the nasal infections. Mahtab got them very often. Too much often, especially after cooler and finally cold weather arrived. Thankfully she wasn't feverish most of the time, but the constant sneezing and stuffed nose wasn't a pleasant thing to care about. Mahtab did not seem to mind it after a time, it seemed like she slowly got used to feeling a bit under the weather and did not cry or whine any more just because of a mild discomfort.

After her first Birthday she started to develop very quickly. Erik stepped in the nursery one day to the sight that Mahtab sat under the cradle and instantly stood up as she saw her father and greeted him with her usual baby language.

\- Good morning there, little one! – Erik laughed and walked closer. – Well- well, how did Papa's little daughter manage to climb out of her bed, eh?

Mahtab hugged Erik's leg and giggled happily as he stroke the toddler's hair. She grew a lot of hair in these past months, it now covered all her head and slowly found its way down to her neck's length. At her birth she had light, almost white-ish blond hair and in this past year it darkened a bit, but still remained a middle blond. It wasn't too thick, and like her father's, it was hard to take care of. Erik hated his hair as well, it never stayed the way he wanted it to. Christine liked to brush her daughter's hair, even though the little girl wasn't too fond of it.

In a few days, she could stand steady without having to cling into something, but walking was yet a difficult process for her, though she could crawl fast on the floor for several weeks. The strange thing was that she did not really show any interest in the tricks she learned and her parents could not even figure out when or how she learned to sit up, to crawl or to stand up. Erik would call her lazy as she would make Erik carry her around and not to take steps herself. "A lazy little diva are you, eh?" – He would jokingly scold her.

But it all changed when she became 15 months old. It was February 1887, a damp and cold winter day. Erik put on his boots to leave the house to go to work when Mahtab approached him on her hands and knees, as usual.

\- Oh, bye-bye there, Papa's little diva. Please be a good girl and listen to what Mama says. – Erik patted her tiny head and wanted to open the front door as the child stood up and took a few steps towards him. All alone, she walked to his feet and looked up. – Oh, you want to come with Papa? – He asked with surprise as he turned the baby to face the other direction and gently pushed her back to walk inside. – You stay with Mama.

\- No.

That was the first meaningful word that left her lips. That high – pitched but so determined voice left no doubt in Erik that she absolutely knew what she was speaking about. She understood the whole matter they had discussed and gave her opinion on the subject. But just to be sure, Erik leaned close to the little skull – like face, looked into the mismatched eyes, and said:

\- You stay here.

\- No! – She repeated a bit louder than before.

\- Yes, you do. – Erik straightened up to his full height and left the house with a small grin as he shut the door in front of Mahtab's non – existent nose. She was not yet clever and fast enough to follow her father.

"Just her father's daughter." – Erik thought as he smiled and shook his head.

Mahtab wasn't too happy about having to stay at home and her Papa left, but suddenly she forgot about her problems as she looked at the staircase leading to the next floor in the hall. She was upstairs a few times already with Erik, when he carried her up to the study or the music room, but she was never there all alone. She was a curious little girl, just as any babies and toddlers and she decided to find out what was upstairs. She walked to the first step and grabbed the edge of the next one with her tiny and bony hands, and she started to crawl up on her hands and knees. It was a harder task than anything she had done before, but it was oh, so exciting!

Christine had good sixth sense. She always felt if something was wrong or something terrible was to happen. As she took the first sip of her morning tea Erik made for her before leaving, she heard something. Or to be clear, she heard NOTHING. When you have a young child and you don't hear them making noise in their room, you can be sure they are up to something. Christine wasn't wrong when she thought she should be worried and check on her daughter – she reached the hall just in time to see Mahtab halfway upstairs, climbing up. She gasped in horror and ran to catch her.

\- Mahtab dear! Oh, my God! – she hugged the toddler with trembling hands as she walked down with her. – How did you get here….? I knew that a young child walks everywhere they can but I thought this day comes only later… dear, you scared me. – she kissed the little girl's cold forehead but she wasn't in the mood for cuddling. Especially not now and not with Christine. It hurt Christine's feelings that Mahtab only wanted her kisses rarely. Her father could kiss her anytime he wanted to but Christine should have caught her in the right mood for it.

\- No. – she shook her head and pointed upstairs.

\- You want to go upstairs, dear? What do you want to do there, my angel? – Christine laughed. She saw it well that this isn't an ordinary child, and she could see some similarities between her and Erik, even in this young age. Christine could have sworn that Erik was just as stubborn and determined even back then, when he could barely count his fingers, but wanted to explore the whole world. Once he mentioned to her that he used to get injured a lot as a little boy when he was trying out something dangerous – Christine gasped in horror even for the mention of Erik walked along a balcony banister many times in his childhood, and once he broke his right wrist during the process. She was even more shocked by the fact that Erik told it to her laughing. For a moment, she saw Mahtab's tiny body falling down from the top of the stairs and she swallowed back some tears of worry. As she carried the child to the music room, she nervously wondered what to do to protect the child from this awful fate awaiting her with this attitude.

In the music room, thankfully, there was a thing that caught Mahtab's attention. Christine just placed her down to the floor and sat down beside her to teach her something new, but the tiny girl did not pay any more attention to her mother as she saw that awesome thing… she had seen her father sitting at it many times when he placed her down on the floor in a little basket when she was smaller or she crawled under it sometimes before: the piano. It was always so interesting to her that it produced some awesome noise. She stood up and staggered to the leg of the instrument and stretched just as she could to reach the keyboard, but her fingertips only could touch the edge of the keys.

\- A musician… - Christine laughed and sat on the piano chair, picking Mahtab on her lap. – See, that's Papa's piano. Do you want to play it one day? – Christine asked playfully.

\- Papa! – Mahtab exclaimed with happiness.

\- Yes, Papa plays it very well. Do you want to say "Mama" as well?

\- Papa. – Mahtab repeated and looked behind her to see if her father was there yet.

\- Please dear, say Mama!

\- Papa. – Mahtab nodded.

\- Not Papa. – Christine sighed. – Mama…?

\- Papa. – she then lost her interest about Christine and turned back to the piano, started hitting the keys with her fists. – Bang bang bang!

\- Oh… right, dear. – Christine shook her head and sighed.

At the end of the unusually long, stressful and annoying day, Erik tiredly walked home from work when he noticed something. He wasn't alone. Someone was following him. He could hear the snow crunching under the feet of that said follower. He turned back to see who it was and his eyes met the thing that faithfully followed his path. It was a rather messy looking, fuzzy, brownish – gray colored male dog. It was rather big, its head reached up to Erik's waist level. It was bony, most likely starving, and Erik could have sworn it was full of fleas. As Erik stopped, it stopped as well, and sat down behind Erik and looked up at him with plea and adoration in its eyes.

\- What do you want of Erik? He has nothing for you. – He told the animal and started walking again. The thing still was in his heels. He stopped, and so did the dog, again. – Go away. – Erik turned back to see if the thing is still behind him or not. It was. He did some more attempts to chase or scare it away, but the dog seemed like it picked him out as his master, and would not leave.

Erik liked animals in general, yet he had a strange relationship with them. In his childhood they had animals around the house, some chickens, two geese, a cow, a horse and a dog to guard the house. And a cat that did not really belong to anyone, but it appeared around the house many times to catch mice and his poor unhappy mother would give it some milk regularly. He was ashamed to admit that he sometimes was mean to those animals in his young years, mostly to get his mother's attention. Mother was always so busy… she did not even want to look at him or talk to him. He asked her about something and she would say "Leave me alone, I have to feed the chickens.", or something along these lines. He sometimes felt jealous of those chickens, that horse, the dog… they got much more attention from his mother than he ever dreamed. He saw his mother kissing the little chicks and he was so mad… he HATED them. They got kisses from mother… and he never got ONE. He made a slingshot and shot the chickens when his mother did not see him, or so he thought. He was caught and he got what he deserved for it – mother literally broke a wooden spoon while teaching him his manners and he wasn't able to sit for days.

His favorite animal was the cat back then. It was so independent, free spirit and clever. He did not accept anyone as a friend- just the ones he trusted. Erik would wait for him to return and talk to him, pet him and try to get his trust. The cat liked him more than it did like mother, even though it was her that gave the cat food. Food wasn't everything- a dog likes you for food, but a cat doesn't. Erik thought himself very similar to a cat many times.

Later, he learned to defeat his evil thoughts about animals. He found out they were just as helpless as a child was, and they gave lots of love to a person if treated kindly. He tried at least to be kind to animals in his whole adult life, but he never wanted a pet of his own. Too much responsibility, too much trouble and they would not leave him work. If he did not have a dog under the Opera in his complete solitude to have at least SOME companion, why would he have a dog now when he at least has a family to love? He does not have time and energy for a dog. He is too old for that, with a young toddler and such a big house… and work to do… He felt so tired, so old at that moment as he was 100 years old. In the last decade or so his joints were in quite a pain sometimes, especially in the winter, even if he tried to ignore it as much as he could. It will be a big enough challenge to raise a child like this.

As he was wondering about his relationship towards animals, and his health lately and stood there, he noticed the dog sat closer and closer to him, in the end it reached his gloved hand with its nose. It sniffed him several times, then sat down again. Erik sighed as he watched the poor neglected creature. It looked rather unhappy and unloved.

\- Are you hungry? – He asked with compassion. The dog, as if he understood what Erik asked, swallowed and licked its mouth.

Erik patted the dog's head as he sighed again and shrugged agreeably.

\- Come. – He gestured to the dog to follow him, and now, with delight, he realized it was still walking behind him just as if it was leashed. It did not get away from him, not even to search for smells or to chase sparrows. – You are going to need a name. – Erik added after some minutes as they were walking. – You seem to be following me everywhere and you are dark colored – what about Shadow? – the dog did not seem to mind its new name so Erik stated. – Not protesting is accepting. So your name is Shadow. I am Erik.

When they reached the porch of Erik's home, Erik told the dog to sit down. To his surprise it did obey him. It seemed like Shadow knew and understood orders, so he was trained. Did he escape from a home, did he get lost, or was he abandoned? He thought he would never find it out what has happened to the poor creature, but he was happy he did not have to teach him everything. It would have been a tiring and annoying task. When he entered the house and Christine wanted to run to him to talk about something, Erik, unlike his usual habit, stopped her mid step.

\- I am sorry to interrupt my dear wife, but I have to feed the dog. He is starving.

\- Dog? – Christine asked wonderingly. – What dog?

\- That one. – Erik pointed to Shadow, who still sat on the porch without a move.

\- Oh… do you want to keep it?

\- He wanted to keep me. – Erik laughed and put some sausages in front of Shadow, but to his surprise the dog did not start to eat, just stared at him. – What's wrong? You may eat it… it's yours. – To that the dog gobbled the whole food up in a blink of his eyes. – You only eat if you are permitted to do so? Hmmmm… clever dog. I think we will be friends if you don't go on my nerves. Well, I give you some water and a blanket here. You will stay here. – the dog was wagging his tail and showed much pleasure as Erik gave him water and a blanket to lay on. He put it on the porch, patted the dog's head then walked inside.

\- Why don't you let him sleep inside? – Christine asked.

\- A dog? A filthy dog in Erik's house? No, Christine, the dog stays outside. It is his place.

\- What if he leaves?

\- His decision. – Erik shrugged.

\- It is cold outside.

\- Not on the porch, there he has a corner to hide and a blanket. He will be fine. By the way he is wandering on the street for weeks. If it did not cause him any trouble, he is used to cold weather. The dog is for guarding the house. His place is outside. End of argument. Now what Erik's wife wanted to tell him?

\- You… look like you are not feeling well. – Christine stated worriedly as she stepped closer.

\- Erik is just tired. He had a lousy day today.

\- I will try to make you feel better. – Christine smiled and gently stroke Erik's bony shoulder sympathetically.

\- You always do, my dear. – Erik smiled too, at last. – Where is my baby girl?

\- In the nursery… I actually wanted to talk about her, Erik… she is getting dangerous to herself.

\- What? Why?

\- Today she tried to climb upstairs. I caught her on the stairs.

\- Uh oh… well, Erik should have expected this to happen. I knew she will do this, I just did not think it will happen so soon. But don't worry, Erik is taking care of the situation right now.

\- Right now? What are you planning to do?

\- I put safety gates on the top and the bottom of the stairs so she won't be able to climb up or down without us until she learns to use the stairs safely all by herself.

\- That is a very good idea Erik dear, but you are both tired and you must be hungry… it can wait.

\- No, Christine, my daughter's safety cannot wait. Erik is not hungry anyway – he will be done in a few hours.

Erik was all done with the gates by the time morning came. He did not sleep all night, and only had time to take a bath and change his clothes and he left for work with Shadow in his heels again. He was too tired to protest – the dog may follow him anywhere he wanted to. As he arrived to the construction and started to talk to the people there he realized Shadow wasn't with him anymore. He was delighted for a time that he finally got rid of him. Maybe he found someone else to pester.

Mahtab was really disappointed to find out she wasn1t able to climb upstairs or open the thing that closed the way up. But she did not give up the fight – she did the only thing she found suitable for this awful situation – cry from the top of her lungs. Christine arrived soon after hearing Mahtab's cries of displeasure and took her upstairs. She was so happy to be able to enter the music room again.

\- Mama teaches you to say Mama. – Christine smiled and placed Mahtab on the sofa in the music room and sat in front of her on a chair, but Mahtab did not really pay attention to her. She was looking at the piano and reached out for it. – Please Mahtab, say Mama. – Christine pleaded.

\- Papa. – Mahtab said smiling and pointing towards the piano again.

\- Mama?

\- Papa.

\- Papa. All right. – Christine sighed and took Mahtab to the piano. She slammed her tiny fists against the keys again, making some awful disharmony.

When Erik arrived home he was surprised to find the dog at the porch again. It seemed like Shadow just accompanied him to work and returned home just after. He did not really mind it any more, just quickly fed the dog and gave him fresh water to drink. He could barely keep his eyes open. But as he slowly reached the stairs he heard Mahtab's laughter from the music room and decided to kiss the little girl good night efore he finally goes to sleep. He opened the door of music room and saw Christine and Mahtab on the floor, clapping together. Christine was teaching her some rhythm patterns.

\- Papa! – Mahtab screamed with joy as she realized Erik's presence in the room.

\- Oh… did you say "Papa"? – Erik smiled as he knelt down to hug the small girl as she stood up and walked towards Erik.

\- She says it all the time. – Christine laughed. – And bangs the piano with her fists.

\- Is she interested?

\- Yes she is. Very much so, I could barely put her to sleep in the afternoon.

\- Oh – ho, little musical creature, are you? – Erik gently kissed the toddler's forehead.

\- Papa. – she smiled.

\- Yes, yes dear. Here is Papa and he loves you. And now we go to sleep. It is late already.

\- Maybe you can put her to bed. – Christine laughed. – She wanted you all day.

Mahtab pointed to the piano as Erik lifted her up to take her to the nursery and let out a small disappointed cry.

\- No, no dear, Papa is too tired for that right now. Tomorrow, I promise. – he yawned. – Tomorrow.

As soon as he put Mahtab to bed and he returned to their bedroom he wanted to rest a little bit before changing to nightwear, but as he closed his eyes he instantly fell asleep. Christine removed his cravat, shoes and pocket watch for him and placed a gentle kiss on his cold forehead. She stroke his hair and lay beside him to sleep.

She forgot to set the alarm before going to bed, and as Erik was so tired, against his usual habit he did not wake up early in the morning. When he finally opened his eyes, he realized he was in half an hour delay. He had to get dressed and leave that instant as he will be late from work. He put his shoes on in absolute hurry and was running downstairs as quickly as he could – forgetting that he installed a safety gate to the bottom of the stairs and it was still closed.

Christine lifted her head up to the sound of a loud thud and then some half angrily, half plaintively muttered cusswords. She ran to the stairs worriedly and saw Erik slowly staggering to his feet and painfully stroking his knees and side.

-Are you all right? Did you get injured?

\- Yes, I am and no I did not. – He stated shortly. – I am sorry my dear, I am in hurry. – He walked outside as fast as he could. Christine ran down to look out of the window to see if Erik could still walk. He was so crazy he would leave for work even with a broken bone. He was walking with a drag so she could see he hit himself, but other than that he looked healthy. Shadow was following him to work – just as the day before.

Erik walked home the same way as he left for work – but he did not seem to mind it. He was used to some level of pain, as he was beaten a lot in his life. Mahtab waited for him in front of the stairs.

\- Papa! Bang, bang! – she moved her fists as she was hitting the piano keyboard.

\- Yes, you may play with Papa now. – He picked her up in his arms and walked up to the music room. He sat down to the piano with Mahtab on his lap and as the girl started hitting the keys with her fists, he gently caught her hand. – No, no dear, we don't hit the piano. It hurts for the piano if you hit it like this. We pet it. – Erik gently moved Mahtab's tiny fingers on the keys and showed her how the instrument sounded when one wasn't just randomly slammed it. The tiny girl was in awe of the sound and maybe for the first time in her life, she listened to real music.

Erik proudly smiled at his daughter on his lap – maybe not much time has to pass until she plays the first easy piano pieces…


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter IX.

Erik got two more shadows added to his already existent one he produced. Shadow dog was following him to work every morning during the week, and Mahtab followed him around in the house as her little feet could carry her, she was already walking quite steady if she could hold Erik's finger or the edge of his top – coat. Erik did not seem to mind it, he just reached his finger down to the little girl, and taught her to walk and use the stairs. She was so happy to walk with her Papa. The only disadvantage of the situation was that Erik did not really have any more privacy. Mahtab followed him literally everywhere, and she could not be sent away. Erik did not really want her around with him in the bathroom, but she was oh so stubborn little thing…

One morning, as he tried to shave with one hand, and restrain Mahtab from getting his razor with the other, he suddenly got an idea how to make the toddler pay attention to something else so he can finish shaving in peace.

\- Look, Mahtab! – he said, as he made some soapy water – Papa will show you something. – he picked a straw from the drawer and put the end of it in the water, then blew through it.

Bubbles were forming and the girl was so happy to see them. She clapped and jumped off of the chair from next to the bathroom sink to catch the bubbles. But they disappeared so soon… She went back to Erik and stood behind his back. As she saw him not paying attention to her, she pulled his bathrobe from behind.

\- Oh, Mahtab, Papa doesn't have time for that right now.

\- Papa… play…?

\- No, Papa does not have time to play. He goes to work. But he has to shave first. Why don't you go and play with Mama?

\- Play with Papa. – Mahtab stated and climbed back next to Erik.

\- All right, but Papa has to shave. – Erik sighed. – Be a good girl.

Mahtab sat there for a little, but after she noticed the glass in which Erik mixed up soapy water to blow bubbles for Mahtab. She reached out her hand and grabbed the glass, and lifted it up. It was quite heavy, so she ended up spilling nearly half of it on the floor.

\- Oh, Mahtab…- Erik moaned, but after a moment, he only had time to gasp and cry out in horror as he saw from the mirror what his daughter was up to. – Mahtab, don't drink it! – he quickly tore the glass out of the small bony hands, and placed it back out of her touching range. – Don't eat or drink anything if I don't say you may! – he scolded her, still trembling with fear and worry. – It is unbearable, that a man cannot shave or use the lavatory in peace, for God's sake! Where on Earth is your mother? CHRISTINE! – his voice sounded like a thunder as he lost his patience.

\- What is wrong? - Christine peeped in worriedly. – Are you feeling sick?

\- Take your child away from Erik, because he is going crazy if she stays here! Erik cannot pay attention to what she, or even he is doing and she won't let him get ready!

\- All right, Erik, just please calm down…

\- I will if she disappears from the bathroom and make sure she does not return! And I will close this goddamned door…

Christine picked up Mahtab as she did not want to hold her hand as she held Erik's. She carried her to the nursery and thought back at what Erik said. He called Mahtab "your child" instead of "our child" or "my daughter." He was never that mad at the child before. Is he getting tired of the baby? Does he love her less? He seemed to be so much out of his patience, so mad…

She was teaching Mahtab to talk as she saw Erik leaving for work. He looked rather annoyed and tired. She was worried about Erik lately. He seemed to be tired or in bad mood most of the time. If she asked him about it, of course, he said he was fine. But there was another warning sign: he was in pain. It wasn't unusual, cold weather never did any good for Erik's knees, elbows and wrists, and sometimes he would complain about his shoulders and fingers, but it would always get better with warm weather arriving. But this time, it did not seem to get better. It looked worse than before. She would catch him massaging his wrist or knee, especially after moving a lot.

\- Are you in pain, Erik? – She asked as she took a closer look on Erik's wrist. It was a bit swollen.

\- Yes. – He nodded shortly – But it will go away.

\- Shouldn't you see a doctor about it? – Christine stroke his hair. – It gives you much problem. I don't like to see you suffer.

\- A doctor cannot really do anything about it, my dear Christine. – Erik shook his head and sighed. – I am simply old. I told you that once you will see what does thirty years of age difference mean. But I appreciate your concern.

\- You are not that old. – Christine said.

\- I am over fifty. – Erik looked up. – Mahtab easily could be my granddaughter. But don't worry. I am fine. If I rest it, it gets better.

\- You don't have much opportunity to rest it… with Mahtab constantly clinging to you. – She added worriedly.

"That's what I am afraid of as well." Erik thought to himself but did not say out loud. Mahtab often wanted to play horse-riding on his back or shoulder, and that wasn't what he really wanted to do after a long day at work, especially going on his hands and knees with a constantly moving toddler on his back, that got heavier and heavier, and after standing up from the floor wasn't his favorite activity, but one cannot really do anything else with a young child, but play with it. That is what he meant when thinking about he was too old for a child.

Before Mahtab's birth Erik just led his life as any middle aged Frenchman did, he worked and after he either accompanied Christine to the Opera and watched the performance, or they went to take a stroll or have dinner in a nice restaurant, or they simply stayed home, play music together, or Erik would stretch his long legs out and relax in his chair, reading the newspaper or a book, while Christine played the piano or worked on embroidery or knitting. Erik missed those times, to be honest and he did not even remember when he had a time to read a book.

Also, that dog drove him crazy. Christine let him in. Why did she let him in his house? That filthy thing with a child in his perfect and clean home…? What if it licks the baby? It will leave his fur all over the house and furniture, wherever he walks. Yuck. Disgusting thought. He arrived home one night to the sight of Shadow lying next to the staircase, yawning with delight. Erik wanted to send him out that instant, but Christine begged him so nicely… What should a husband do if that happens…? The fact that Shadow moved inside, of course, resulted in one more task for Erik – he needed to let Shadow out to the garden to be able to run around and do his business, and in afterwards. Only one thing remained in which Erik did not change his mind – the dog had to stay out in the hall and wasn't allowed to enter any of the rooms.

Christine wasn't feeling well at home alone with the child any more. She felt useless. Mahtab liked to play with her, but she most certainly did not have the adoration towards her that she felt for her father. She missed stage as well. Or at least some fresh air. She walked with Erik and Mahtab in the park on Sundays, of course, Erik did not give up that habit, but it was only one day of the week. Christine wanted to go OUT. She wanted to see the shop displays, she wanted to have a hot coffee at a coffee shop… anything just she wanted to go outside. At least Erik has a job to attend to. She had nothing to do and started to get really bored and tired of it.

As Erik left for work on a sunny day in March, Christine decided not to sit at home with Mahtab, and go out to have a nice walk with her. Finally they can get rid of the pram and Mahtab will just walk beside her. "Don't forget to cover her face with something if you take her out in public." Erik's voice echoed in her ears as she caught the girl's hand to leave. "A scarf will be good enough right now, until she grows older." Christine decided she will NOT cover her daughter's face. She will show Erik he wasn't right about what he kept repeating. People won't hurt Mahtab, even if she walks her along the Champs Elysées, at broad daylight!

She walked proudly on the streets, with her daughter and her uncovered little face, holding Mahtab's hand, who was in awe of the city. They walked to places where they never were before- Papa would always walk with them to somewhere else where not much people walked. She loved the park as well, but this was way more awesome. She got some sweets to eat and Christine was constantly talking and showing things to her little daughter- things she never saw before. Big buildings, Mama's workplace, the Opera, the Seine…

Everything was so idyllic…

\- Monsieur Spöke! Please hurry, your wife is here and she wants to talk to you!

Erik nearly dropped the building plans as he heard his name being called. Even if he picked up this name just before the wedding, he already got used to it these five years, just as it was always his name since birth, and he was alarmed to hear that Christine came to the construction… why? He told her many times not to show up at a construction, it is too dangerous for a woman… and where is the child? Who is taking care of Mahtab?

He hurried to Christine, who stood there in complete shock, holding Mahtab in her arms. Mahtab was crying, and so was Christine.

\- What has happened? – Erik jumped in front of them in horror.

\- Erik… Erik… Erik…. – Christine sobbed.

\- What has happened, Christine? What is wrong? – Erik was examining them with growing suspicion, and reached out his hand for the baby. – Let me see her, Christine.

She placed the girl in Erik's arms, who walked further with the little girl, out of anyone's sight. He looked at the tiny face – her non – existent nose had bleeding marks under it, she had some scratches on her face and she was still trembling and crying.

\- Hush… hush…. – Erik started cradling her and softly hummed a lullaby to her, while he dried the blood from under her nose hole with his handkerchief. He sent a cold glance towards Christine, when Mahtab finally closed her mismatched eyes. He thought for a moment that she was sleeping, but the eyes reopened, and they showed panic and confusion. He covered her face by hugging her to himself and walked to the others to excuse himself and ask if he is permitted to go home early. – My daughter is ill. – He added. – But I will be here earlier tomorrow to make up for my absence.

He got the permission to leave and so he walked back to Christine. He did not say a word to her trembling wife – he was too mad to talk at that moment and was afraid he might say something very mean to Christine if he opens his mouth. Mahtab was sniffing in his arms as he gently stroke her hair. A cab was passing and Erik gestured for it to stop. They got in and Christine was nervously cracking her fingers.

\- Erik, I just…. I just didn't believe… did not think… – she started, but Erik remained silent. – Erik…?

\- Don't talk to me, Christine, please, don't make it any worse than it is.

It was an unbearably long and awkward ride home. None of them spoke a word. Christine felt so guilty, she hated herself for what happened… Erik was mad at Christine and both of them were worried about Mahtab, so they did not have too much urge to talk. When they finally stepped inside their house, Erik still did not want to acknowledge Christine in his heels. Erik placed Mahtab to their bed in the main bedroom and sat on the side of the bed, slowly taking care of the scratches on her face and examining her injuries. She did not have too serious wounds, just some minor bruises, like she was tossed on the ground or something. Her knees showed she fell on them, and her palms were dirty. He washed her hands with a wet cloth and kissed her forehead. Mahtab seemed to have calmed down and fell asleep.

\- Erik, please forgive me. – Christine whispered, still standing next to the bed.

\- Ask her to forgive you, not me. – Erik waved and let out an irritated little sigh.

\- I did not think people would hurt a toddler, Erik…

\- I told you. – He shrugged. – I have been talking to you about this since her birth. Erik knows well why he says the things he does.

\- Erik… - she walked closer, reaching out desperately for his hug.

\- Not that loud. The child will wake up if you can't control your emotions. – Erik left the room and showed Christine to follow him.

They sat down in the salon, facing each other in two armchairs at the ends of the small table. Erik jumped up from his seat and left for some seconds. He arrived back with a bottle of rum and poured himself a glass of it with trembling hands. He sat back down and emptied the glass with one sip. He slammed the glass back on the table and leaned back in the chair, stroking his forehead. Christine could see he was very upset. Erik only drank rum to calm himself or to warm up if he was really cold in the winter, in other cases he chose wine. Christine did not know what to say or do, so she just sat there silently and decided not to bother Erik until he calms down a bit. It was finally Erik who broke the silence, after nearly an hour.

\- Tell me what happened.

\- I took her for a walk. Without… anything.

\- That is what I know. And?

\- I took her to see the Opera house and we were walking on Champs Elyséées.

\- Bravo. – Erik clapped cynically.

\- At first I just heard a scream… of a woman. She had a child as well… Mahtab… I guess… just wanted to be friends. She walked to the other little girl.

\- Why didn't you hold her hand?

\- I… released her on purpose as I saw she wanted to go to her. I was near…

\- Not enough as it looks like.

\- Erik… everything happened so fast… she screamed… she yelled at Mahtab and… said she had some illness… that is contagious… and she… just kicked her away… Mahtab fell to the ground and started crying so hard…

\- Who clawed her face,

\- The other child. She was scared of her too.

\- We are all lucky that only this happened. She could have met a bigger crowd with more people and some men involved. We just hope that she is too young yet to remember back what has happened today.

\- Erik…

\- Stop calling my name please, it won't solve the situation.

\- Do you hate me, Erik? – She lowered her head in shame and guilt, and tears ran down on her pale and sad face.

\- Of course, not. – His voice changed to be kinder. - I just got disappointed that you don't listen to me, Christine. You are stubborn, and you think you know everything better. And you, without your intention, caused pain for our daughter and Erik is mad when the ones he loves are hurt. But how could I hate you, Christine? You are my wife, and I love you. And I always will. – He stood up and walked closer to Christine, and finally reached behind her back, and gently patted her shoulder. – Please listen to what Erik says, Christine, and accept it. He only wants the best for Mahtab, and you can see what happens if you follow your own ideas.

\- I promise you Erik… I promise… Never ever I will cause Mahtab any harm or pain. I love her.

\- I know. – He nodded and straightened up. – I put her to bed now and… I will go to bed as well, I think. I feel rather tired tonight. I ask you to forgive my absence for the evening, Christine. Don't worry- I am not angry with you anymore. Good night.

\- Good night Erik. – Christine smiled at him and waved to him.

When Christine later joined Erik in bed she noticed he wasn't breathing the usual way. He was wheezing. It startled her. She leaned closer to him and checked his face, but other than the wheezing sound, he did not look any sicker than usual. She lay down next to him, and after some time, she fell asleep as well.

She was the one who woke up earlier in the morning. Erik was still asleep. That was unusual of him as he always got up so early, way before her. He never slept for so long before, only when Christine found him ill under the Opera when she returned to him from Raoul… he was constantly sleeping. God… that wasn't a good sign at all. Was he ill? Christine reached out her hand to touch Erik's forehead and she gasped in horror as she felt his forehead was so hot. He had fever. That's why the wheezing…?

\- Erik… ? – She called out worriedly.

Erik did not reply or did not even move. She jumped up from next to him and ran to the other side of the bed to check on her husband.

\- Erik, please reply… can you hear me…? – She leaned closer to him and gently tapped Erik's wrist, but to her surprise, Erik let out a painful cry even for the lightest touch.

\- Christine, stop… - He hissed in pain. – Don't touch me… please…

\- What's wrong? – She released him, but did not take a step away from the bed.

\- All my bones hurt so much. – He sighed. He shuddered with fever and it seemed like he was unable to move. – I feel weak and I think I have fever.

\- How can I help you….? – She panicked.

\- Christine… don't touch me, I might be contagious. Listen… calm down, please. – He tried to lift his hand, but just made a painful expression. – I can't get up. Please take care of Mahtab.

\- But how can I help you?

\- I will be fine. – He turned his head away and closed his eyes. – Don't bother with me, Christine, take care of the child and… don't come close to me… and wash your hands before approaching Mahtab.

\- Erik, let me call the doctor for you… please…

\- Nonsense. I rest for some days and I will be all right. Don1t worry about me, do as I say.

Christine nervously bit her lip and ran to the bathroom where she washed her hands and she went to the nursery to take care of their child. As she finished with this, and realized she spent an hour with Mahtab, she placed the girl down on the floor and as the little girl went to play with her wooden blocks, she ran back to the bedroom to see how Erik was.

\- Erik dear, are you sure you don't need anything? – She called out from the door.

\- Christine…? – Erik sounded surprised. – Why are you here…, is there no rehearsal today?

\- What… what are you talking about…? – She moved closer with growing fear.

\- Don't let Carlotta sing tonight… she makes my ears hurt.

\- How are you feeling…?

\- Marvelous… I would not miss your debut gala for anything… Christine… - He smiled and closed his golden eyes.

Christine lifted her fist in front of her mouth in shock and she ran out of the room in panic. Help… help… someone…. Anyone…


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter X.

She was running up and down nervously in the hall. She gasped and her mind was racing, searching for the solution desperately. What to do? What to do? She was home alone with a seriously ill husband and a baby. No neighbors to look after Mahtab for a few hours… Erik made sure to build his home quite away from other houses. She can't leave Erik here alone… he might die while she runs for help. And Mahtab can't be left alone either, she might get injured… Erik can't keep an eye at his daughter as he isn't conscious and can't move to catch her. Poor Mama Valerius would be so needed right now… Sadly she passed away a year after the wedding. She sometimes visited her, but Erik never met her. He said he did not want to scare that poor old lady to death…

She had to take care of the situation herself. She has to make Erik feel better, at least to the level he could be left alone for some time. She ran cold water in a bowl and took a washcloth with her to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Erik did not seem to be awake. His eyes were closed and he was gasping for air. Christine put the cloth in the cold water and placed it on Erik's forehead, but the moment it reached his skin, Erik suddenly shuddered and turned his head away so the cloth fell off. He was trembling with cold and his teeth chattered. He whimpered some meaningless cries and syllables, then opened his eyes. He looked at Christine as he did not understand anything of the world around him. He was wheezing for some moments, then he whispered:

\- I told you it burns… my Don Juan… it burns…

\- Erik, you are feverish, that is what you feel.

\- It burns.

\- I want to make you feel better.

\- Mother… please…- Erik's voice lost all its power, he could only whisper and his eyes closed again. – Please… give me a kiss… will you?

\- Erik…?

\- Kiss me… mother… just a little… just one kiss… on my forehead… please…

Christine leaned closer and kissed Erik's hot and sweaty forehead with love and compassion. Erik reopened his eyes, and smiled. – Thank you, mother. – He sighed with relief and fell asleep again.

Christine tried to put the cloth back on his forehead, but it caused him to shiver again, and with a final painful moan, he lost his consciousness. No matter how she slapped him or shook him, he did not even cry out any more.

Christine jumped up and ran out of the room. She knew now that home remedies won't help Erik. She can't make his fever go down with only the cloth and Erik seemed to react to it on another way than he should have. Maybe she is doing more harm to him with it?

She caught Mahtab, and dressed her, she even put a scarf on her to cover her head and face this time, as she decided she will take her as well. She needed to go out to fetch their doctor and if she leaves, Mahtab leaves with her too. But to her surprise, Mahtab did not want to step out of the front door. She was crying, and screaming as she could.

\- I don't want! I want Papa! Papa! – She was screaming from the top of her lungs as Christine lifted her from the doorstep where she finally took a seat, and she looked so desperate, so much in panic.

"This is my fault." – Christine thought to herself in guilt. "Maybe she is afraid to be hurt again, just as she got hurt yesterday." She hugged Mahtab, and tried to hush her by stroking her back. They finally could walk out of the garden, and she ran as fast as she could. She was surprised how did she reach downtown Paris so quickly from the suburbs, without even a cab… She was too nervous to think of taking money with her, so she had to run on her feet with Mahtab in her arms. Thoughts were racing in hear head – about Mahtab, Erik, and herself… what could Erik's illness be…? He seemed to be all right the day before… or … well, was he feeling sick when he was massaging his forehead in the salon when he drank that rum? Maybe the rum was for making him warm up, not to settle his nerves, as she imagined? Was he shivering with fever, not rage? And there was another problem still – who will take care of Mahtab while the doctor is at them, examining Erik?

Suddenly she saw a very familiar man on Rue de Rivoli as she was hurrying to the doctor – the Persian! She delightedly approached him from behind.

Of course, how could she forget about him? Monsieur Khan visited them every other week to talk to Erik and play with Mahtab. Erik and him were good friends deep down in their hearts, as Christine noticed, but Erik tried to hide his real feelings for the Persian by constantly playfully picking on him, and the Daroga would do the same to Erik. He liked the little girl, and Mahtab liked him as well. It was a rare occasion that Mahtab accepted a 2stranger" as much as she did the Daroga. He could look after her for some minutes if he would…

\- Monsieur Khan, please! – She tried to get his attention. To her relief, the Persian man turned around and cheerfully greeted her.

\- Oh, Christine, what a nice surprise! – He exclaimed, but he worriedly walked closer to her as he realized Christine's worry. – What is wrong?

\- Oh, Monsieur Khan, I am so worried about Erik… he is ill, and I have to fetch the doctor for him… and there is no one I could ask to look after Mahtab…

\- But of course, there is. – He reached out for the tiny girl who started crying again. – Don't worry about us, Madame, we will be fine. Just talk to the doctor and we will go to you together and I stay to play with and care for my little Moonlight.

\- Oh, Monsieur… you are so kind to us… - she cried in delight and worry at the same time as she gave Mahtab to Monsieur Khan.

\- This is the least I could do. – He nodded modestly as Christine left them together on the streets to go to the doctor's office. – There, there, what is wrong, Mahtab, dear? – The Persian asked the tiny girl who cried more and more. Now not only she could not find her Papa anywhere, but Mama disappeared as well…

\- Papa… - She cried and sniffed. – Papa….

\- Don't worry my dear, Papa is just tired and needs to sleep a bit.

\- Sleep?

\- Yes, dear, he sleeps and he will be fine.

\- And play?

\- Yes he will play with you. – The Daroga walked to a bench and sat down with Mahtab on his lap. – Did Papa teach you this? – He asked and started whistling a Persian folk song.

\- No. – Mahtab shook her head.

\- No? Tisk – tisk, lazy Papa… do you want me to teach it to you?

\- Yes. – She nodded, as her thoughts were slowly guided away from her father.

The Persian sang the song in Farsi and the girl looked at her with her eyes wide open in awe of the new language and the music she heard. She loved that song, and the Persian had to sing it five times in a row to make the child happy. She clapped her tiny hands in joy and smiled.

By the time the Persian finished singing, Christine arrived back with the doctor in the doctor's coach. Doctor Alain Bonsanté was a middle aged man, slightly nearsighted, balding, with a darker complexion and dark hair and eyes. He wore elegant clothes but still looked clumsy – his tie was just hurriedly tied, his coat was unbuttoned and his shoes were dirty. All his clothes were in need of ironing. He was fidgety and forgetful. The Daroga got in the coach with Mahtab, and they could finally go to Erik's home to see what was wrong.

When they arrived, the doctor and Christine headed into the bedroom where they found Erik lying on the floor, next to the bed. Christine gasped in fright and ran to his side to turn him to face her. Erik had his eyes open, but he did not recognize her. He muttered something none of them could understand and then his head fell on his shoulder as he seemed to lose his consciousness again.

Doctor Bonsanté went closer and leaned close to Erik. He knew Erik for 25 years, since he arrived back from Persia, he was used to Erik's skull face, and even when he saw it for the first time, he did not feel disgusted. He examined Erik's face with scientific interest, and would even often compliment Erik's horrid features from a doctor's point of view. Erik wasn't too fond of it, but as he did not want to search for another doctor and he did not think any other person would be as crazily fascinated by his deformity as Bonsanté, he stayed with his first choice.

As the doctor leaned close to him, Christine asked worriedly:

\- Is he still alive…? – her voice sounded nearly hysterical, so the doctor found it better if he sent her out of the room for the time of the visit.

\- Yes, Madame, but please go out of here. I need peace and calm to examine him.

\- Is he… all right here on the ground…?

\- Don't worry, I will place him back to the bed, but please leave us.

Christine nervously chew on her lower lip and cracked her fingers in the hall, in front of the bedroom door. She did not dare to leave or even sit down. She tried to put her ear on the door to listen, but could hear nothing… Unbearably long time has passed. Not a word… not a sound… she was staring at the clock on the wall. The hands were moving so slowly… did maybe that clock stop? And maybe so did poor Erik's heart…? What is happening?

Then she finally heard something. She heard Erik sneezing! She had never been so happy about a single sneeze. Then he spoke! He spoke slowly, quietly and with long pauses… but still… he spoke! Erik can speak!

\- Erik hates smelling salts… - He stated on a lamentable tone.

\- Good morning. – The doctor replied. – I am trying to slap some soul into you for half an hour. How are you feeling?

\- Guess… – He sighed, then a cry of pain could be heard: - My wrist, my wrist, you damned leech!

\- I have to check your pulse. – A calm voice replied. – So if I touch your wrist, it hurts.

\- Yes. And… my elbow, my shoulder, my knee…

\- Your joints?

\- Yes.

\- You have fever, your joints are swollen, red and in pain… does it hurt even if you rest it?

\- Today… yes…

\- When did it start?

\- The fever…. this morning. The pain… the pain… just comes and goes for some weeks…. But today… today… - he stopped talking, it sounded like he fell asleep.

\- Erik, what is today? – The doctor demanded a reply.

\- What…? - Erik sounded so exhausted.

\- What is today?

\- Wednesday… or…

\- No, I mean what is it with the pain today?

\- Oh… it doesn't want to get better.

\- Just rest. I am here to make your fever go down. I have to talk to your wife.

\- Christine… Christine… - Erik sighed before falling asleep one more time.

The door finally opened and the doctor walked out to the hall. He lifted his finger to his lips to hush Christine before she could cry out in joy or ask something before he could close the door and asked Christine if there was a place in the house where they could talk for some minutes. Christine nodded nervously and led the doctor to the drawing room where they set down in the same chairs she and Erik sat the evening before. As Christine offered the doctor a glass of rum and he politely declined it, she finally took a seat, facing the man.

\- What's the matter, doctor…? Is it very serious…?

\- I have an idea in mind, but as that illness is rare in Erik's age, I am not sure yet, and I would need to know the answer to a few questions before I could make sure my theory is right. – He folded his hands on his chest.

\- Ask me anything. I will answer if I can. – She said softly.

\- Did your husband have a sore throat some weeks ago?

\- Yes… our daughter is sick with nasal or throat infections a lot and the last one was in January. Both Mahtab and Erik were sick, I think he caught it from the girl.

\- How did he cure it?

\- The usual way he does it any other time – he drinks a lot of tea, he takes some cough medicine and rests his voice for some days.

\- Did he have fever?

\- I don't know, he did not mention it, even if he had. He rarely talks to me about his health, if he complains that means he is very ill.

\- Well, I think he got used to living alone and that he did not have anyone to complain to. – The doctor scratched his head. – Did he take bed rest?

\- No. He doesn't stay in bed with a minor sore throat as he calls it. That is how I knew he was very ill today, the fact he stayed in bed.

\- It seems like your husband got a throat infection which did not get totally cured, only disappeared from his throat and went down into his joints. This caused his wrists, knees, elbows, shoulders and ankles to get inflamed, and it is accompanied by a really high fever due to the all joint inflammation. It is called rheumatic fever, but it is an illness usually showing up in people under the age of 40.

\- Is it contagious?

\- Not really, but the child shouldn't be let near him. Children are very sensitive to this illness. Adults in the same household aren't like to get it.

\- And… is it… curable?

\- Well… it depends on his immune system and how quickly we can make his fever go away. We know the illness much better than we did 100 years ago, when Mozart died of this.

\- Was this Mozart's fatal illness? – Christine screamed. She read enough biographies about Mozart to know what did the doctor mean and what is going to happen to Erik… poor, poor Erik… In her mind she saw Erik lying in bed, unable to move, vomiting, shivering with fever and she was alarmed to the thought she wouldn't be able to help him and had to assist through his dying as Constanze Mozart did to her dear beloved Wolfgang Amadeus.

\- Yes, Madame, but as I said, we know more about the problem now. If Erik is strong enough, he will most likely get cured of it. We need to stop the infection before it reaches the heart. At first we have to stop the fever and after we have to cure the inflammation in his body.

\- Can you do it…? – She asked hopefully.

\- We will try. – He nodded calmly. – Come back to the bedroom with me, I will tell you how to take care of him. Make sure that someone is here with you to help you, or in case you have to send for me urgently. Don't stay here all alone with a young child and an ill husband. –

As they entered the bedroom, Christine called Erik's name, but he did not reply.

\- He did speak before. – She said with disappointment.

\- That was only temporary, Madame, his mind got cleared to the reaction of smelling salts for some minutes. He is still feverish, if his temperature cools down his mind will clear up again. At first, I have to tell you, this water you wanted to use is way too cold.

\- Too cold? What do you mean?

\- If you want to stop a fever, you should not use too cold water. Only slightly cooler than his body temperature. If the water is too cold, it will only cause him to shiver. It is very unpleasant for him and it might even raise up his temperature, resulting in even higher fever than he had.

\- God! – She gasped. – Did I harm him?

\- No, not likely. But please don't do it again. Secondly: with such a high fever this small cloth on the forehead isn't enough. You have to cool his whole body. Either soak a sheet in cooler water and bundle him in it, or put him into a tub of water and run cooler and cooler water to it in every five minutes.

\- I will.

\- And when he is lifted out of bed, make sure you aren't touching any of the spots that are in pain.

\- I will try not to cause any pain for him. – She nodded.

\- Good. Please bring me a wet sheet I can use to put on him right now, and change it in every quarter an hour. I will come back in the evening to check how he is.

As he was done covering Erik up in a wet sheet, Erik took a deep sigh and murmured:

\- It is so good…

The doctor nodded and left. He promised once more that he will be back in the evening, then Christine took a deep breath and calmed herself with a breathing exercise she learned from Erik. He used to calm her down with it before performances. She headed to the nursery where she heard Monsieur Khan and the child having fun. She stepped in the room and saw the Daroga sitting on the floor, playing with Mahtab's blocks. She was amused by her companion, and giggled a lot. As he noticed Christine, he instantly stood up and bowed his head.

Christine briefly told him what the doctor said, to which the Daroga offered his help without hesitation. Christine gratefully showed him the guest room where he will stay for a time. Erik built a guest bedroom with an adjacent guest bathroom in their home "just because every home has one", as he reasoned it. Christine never understood it, but now she blessed Erik's mastermind for this decision. The guestroom had nice green wallpaper with mostly green and yellow furniture and a huge yellow Persian rug. It was rarely used by anyone, as it was solely built for the purpose that Erik would have a home like everyone else. The furniture contained a single bed, a sofa, a table, a desk in the corner with a chair, and a dresser. Just what a person would need if they stay for a few days. The bathroom was fully equipped with towels, and any other necessities one could need to use it. The Daroga was surprised to see that he did not have to go home to get things for him to be able to stay – he could find everything he needed. He was smiling to the thought. Erik really thought of every little detail when he created a room he did not even intend to use.

\- Are you satisfied with your room, or do you need anything else, Monsieur? – Christine asked when the Daroga had a look at the place.

\- I am very much so, Christine, I am spoiled. – He smiled. – Thank you.

\- No… I thank you. – Christine gave a little sad smile and left the room. The Daroga followed her as he did not want to leave her all alone with her thoughts and fears.

He found her in the kitchen, where she made some coffee for them. She sat down to the kitchen table, warming her cold hands on the coffee cup. Tears were running down her face and she looked up as the Persian entered the kitchen.

\- Don't worry, Christine. He will be better soon. I know he will be. He is strong.

\- I hope so. I am so worried… God, I nearly forgot to change the sheet on him! – She jumped up.

\- Christine, I will take care of it. Please allow me.

\- I… would like to take care of him. I don't mind doing so. He is my husband and…

\- And you are a woman and should not lift him. That's what a man is for. Please, take care and save your energy. I will take care of Erik.

\- I… I will check on my daughter. – she nodded after some pause.

The Daroga returned to the nursery to Christine and the child after some minutes, and carried Christine's untouched coffee with him, and gently handed it to the young woman.

\- Drink it before it cools off. – He smiled. – We will going to need it.

\- That is for sure. – Christine sighed.

The Persian started to play with Mahtab again ad it was good to see how he likes the young toddler. Christine was surprised that an older Persian man who thought everything through logically and did not really let his emotions take over him was so much like a child if he met Mahtab. Christine wondered if the man had a child one point in his life. Would it be impolite to ask him about it?

\- I did. – The Daroga said, just as if he was reading her mind.

\- Pardon…? – Christine looked at him with surprise.

\- I had a child.

\- How did you know I was thinking about this…?

\- It was written on your face, dear. – The Daroga laughed.

\- So… was it a boy or a girl… if I don't hurt you by asking.

\- Much time have passed since that and it doesn't hurt that much anymore. – He told but rather to himself than to Christine. – I had a son. A young and beautiful little son. His name was Ardashir. He was my little treasure.

\- What has happened to him?

\- He passed away, sadly. At the age of six…

\- I am sorry. – Christine bit her lip.

\- Oh… don't worry about it. To tell the truth… I am the one who is sorry. And I will ask Erik to forgive me for that. I just realized I never did before.

\- What do you mean?

\- Erik tried to cure my son when he was dying of diphtheria. When I arrived back to my country with Erik as I took him to Persia from Russia, they sent for me and I was informed that Ardashir fell ill while I was away. Erik heard that my son was ill and asked me if I allowed him to help. I was desperate… so I said yes. Erik was trying so hard to save his life. He always seemed to feel sorry for sick or ill children and tried to help them the best he could. There were children he actually could cure. But sadly… not my son. He said we arrived too late…. And my son died in the end… just as he told me two days before… and you know… as a deperate and sad father who just lost his only treasure… I did what everyone does in that situation… I blamed others. Precisely, I blamed Erik.

\- Erik…? Why…?

\- I know now that it sounds absurd. But back then I blamed him we lost my son because he told me we arrived too late… and I told him it was his fault we arrived too late. We would have arrived much earlier if we travelled by ship, but he refused to travel by ship. He made us go on land, losing weeks of time.

\- Why did he do that? - Christine asked with surprise. – What was that good for?

\- Don't you know about it?

\- About what?

\- He has motion sickness. He is very sick on ships.

\- He did not mention that. We didn't need to travel by ship yet.

\- He won't if there is a way to avoid it. Well, I know that was nasty of me, but I yelled at him that my son died just because of the fact he was squeamish. I nearly hit him… yet he had nothing to do about the situation and if I owed him something, that was only thanks.

\- I am sure you are forgiven. – Christine took his hand. – It was understandable in that situation.

Without another word, the Persian squeezed Christine's hand and bowed his head as tears were forming in his eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter XI.

Those three days were the worst ones Christine had to face during their marriage – or so she thought. Erik was lying in bed motionlessly and mostly un- or half conscious. He did not recognize anyone who stepped beside his bed, and Doctor Bonsanté shook his head too often when he was examining him. His eyes, when opened, had a glassy shine, he was sweating and some rash appeared on him. It made things even worse that Christine was always sent out of the room when the doctor came to see Erik, and she never knew what exactly he was doing to her husband. Christine was half mad with worry and sadness, even though she had to compose herself so that Mahtab did not have to see how big the trouble was. This illness was even more serious than the one she succeeded in curing him out of, yet under the Opera. Yes, he slept a lot, but he always reacted when being called, and he understood what she was saying. Yes, he was extremely weak, but he at least could move a bit, even if with help, he was able to walk. She just had to make sure he ate, drank and moved enough and he finally slowly ended up regaining his strength. But now none of these were true. No matter how she tried to talk to him, he didn't even hear his name being called.

She tried to show nothing was wrong to the child, it was a big enough problem in itself that Mahtab would often cry for her Papa. She did not understand why Papa did not show up any more and did not know where he was. She would search for him in her toy box or under her bed, but there was no Papa. Mama tried to tell her that Papa was just sleeping – but it never happened before that Papa slept so much. And Mama was so sad as well. She was smiling, but most of the time she was sad. Once, when the building blocks fell apart while Christine tried to put a piece on the top of the castle with her trembling hand, Christine finally broke out in a sob. She was crying hard. Mahtab just could not understand why did she do it, but she tried to make Mama feel better. She walked closer to her and hugged the crying Christine. The young mother looked at her child who did not even understand, but still showed compassion, and she hugged her tight, softly whispering.

\- My sweet, sweet little daughter… I love you…

Christine sure would have gone crazy without the Persian's help. He was so good to them, and took care of Erik so well. He lifted him out of bed and placed him back in, he bathed him in cool water, he put wet sheets over him, he dried his sweaty forehead, he carefully made him drink, and assisted him with whatever he needed and did everything the doctor said. Christine was usually busy with the baby girl, but when Mahtab fell asleep, the worrying and devoted wife went to the bedroom to pray at her husband's bedside. She prayed that Erik would at least regain his consciousness, and finally will get cured. She rarely slept, and when she did, she chose the sofa in the bedroom as her sleeping place. She did not want to sleep in the bed with Erik, as she was afraid that in her sleep she would toss and turn and accidentally hit or kick Erik, causing him to suffer. As the Persian saw the young woman turning pale with sleepiness, he sent her to bed in the guest room one evening and ordered her to stay there until morning. She was too tired to argue, so she did so.

Mohammed- Ismael Khan was surprised to see how much Christine really loved Erik, the monster. He was such a monster sometimes… he looked so helpless now as he looked at him, but he never forgot the sins Erik had committed in Persia, and later, the awful night with the Scorpion and the grasshopper five cellars below the Opera… and he knew what Erik was capable of. He never thought a woman could really love him as he is – and not just because of his face. Yet he had to admit that Erik wasn't the Erik he used to be, even five years ago. He seemed to be much calmer, much more understanding, less self-centered, and more capable of making compromises. Did he finally understand what does it mean to love someone? Christine told him that Erik was a good husband to her, and now he believed her. She would not pray by his bedside so desperately if he was such a monster…

Erik had a strange feeling. There was a dark cloud covering his mind up until this point, but it slowly started to disappear, and take the form of gray fog. And even that fog was fading, and his body wasn't so unbearably hot anymore. He was extremely weak, but he started wandering back into the world he belonged to. Small noises of everyday life were reaching his ears, he recognized the ticking of the small clock on the Louis- Philippe dresser, and even though his eyes were closed, he sensed the small light only one candle could produce, and sometimes he felt someone touching his forehead. Someone was checking his temperature regularly. "Must be Christine…"- He thought. This was his first reasonable thought for 4 days. He wasn't only capable of sensing, he now was able to think as well. His brain slowly started working again. He was not yet strong enough to think for a long time, yet he wasn't really sleeping any more, he was only halfway between being awake and asleep.

He finally took a deep breath and the Daroga, as he leaned closer to him, saw one of the yellow eyes opening. But as soon as Erik opened his left eye, he closed it back instantly and moaned softly.

\- The light… - this was the first sentence he said in nearly a week, so his voice was soft and husky due to the fact Erik haven't used it for days.

\- Is the candle lighting into your eye? – The Daroga asked, trying to see if Erik was fully conscious or not.

\- Yes, it does. – He cleared his throat. As the Daroga got a reply he found satisfying, he blew out the candle and Erik opened his left eye again, and after realizing the light wasn't bothering him anymore, he opened both of his eyes, and he was staring at the Persian.

\- How are you feeling? – The man inquired.

\- Not well. – Erik gave a reply after thinking things through. – How did you get here? – He changed the subject.

\- I came to help you.

\- Why? – Erik wondered.

\- Because you are ill.

\- I know that. That's not what I asked. I am only curious about why are you helping me?

\- Because I care about you and like you in a way. – The Persian confessed it.

\- And I thought I had high fever. – Erik chuckled softly.

\- You must be feeling better if you have the urge to tease me. – The Persian smiled.

\- I can't deny it. – He admitted. – But… I am still so tired… and my joints still hurt. A lot.

\- Can you move already?

\- I don't know, I did not try it yet.

\- Try to move your hand, please.

Erik made an attempt to raise up his right hand, but it wasn't successful. He felt pain and he was too weak to do so. He shook his head. As he noticed he was able to move only his fingers, his toes and his head. He asked the Daroga to place a pencil in his hand to check if he could hold something. He could grab and hold the pencil, but could not lift his hand to move it or hand it back to the Daroga, so he was just clinging to it.

\- Where is Christine? – He broke the silence between them after a long pause.

\- She is asleep. She is a bit tired because of all the worry she experienced in these days.

\- Days? – Erik gasped. – How many days?

\- Four.

\- Have you been… taking care of me… for four days…?

\- Yes.

\- Totally…?

\- Well… yes.

Erik looked down on himself and realized he did not wear the same nightshirt he remembered of. He suspiciously glanced at the Persian.

\- Did you… change my nightwear…?

\- I had to, you were sweating a lot.

\- Did you… undress me? – He looked away in shame.

\- Erik, it is not a big deal.

\- For you… it isn't. But for Erik, it is.

Erik was so mad and ashamed at the same time. He hated his miserable body for reneging him so badly. He shuddered to the mere thought that he was just helplessly lying in bed and others had to nurse him like a damned infant. He loathed defenselessness, and he also hated the thought to be so much beholden to the Dsroga. The Daroga just undressed and dressed him, and saw him helplessly and… oh, God, naked! He turned bright red to the thought. God… for how long will it continue…? He still can't even lift his damned hand. What is happening to him?

\- What is my illness?

\- Rheumatic fever.

\- Oh, that? Mozart lost his battle with it in two weeks.

\- How do you know that?

\- I was examining the illnesses and death of famous people, especially musicians, out of scientific interest. And what did the doctor say?

\- He didn't say anything for sure yet.

\- Am I going to die, Daroga?

\- Most likely not anymore. You woke up thankfully.

\- Daroga… you told me you liked me. Do you? – Erik asked softly.

\- I do. You are my friend.

\- Well… as a friend… could Erik ask you a favor?

\- Yes, you may ask me anything.

There was a long pause, then Erik finally started talking again.

\- Daroga… you have to understand me. I know I may sound selfish… and I should be happy to have a wife and a child at last… but you have to understand… I don't want to become a burden to them. I don't want to be a helpless, bed-ridden corpse in all my remaining life. If my illness is curable, that is good for us. But if it is not… I don't want to go on like this and make Christine suffer with me. I don't want to depend on her or you, I want to take care of myself…. If I don't get well enough to be able to get up and take care of my needs alone, I want to end my life. Or want you to do it for me if I am unable to do so.

\- Erik…

\- Shut your face. In my study, you have to pull out the lowest drawer from the desk and lift it out. Behind the drawer, on the back of the desk, there is a nail. Press it and it will open a secret drawer. That is where I keep my pistol with some cartridge. Listen to me… I give myself two weeks. If I am not better in two weeks, you get my pistol, load it and return with it here… and you may chose the spot you aim it, I only demand it shall cause instant death.

\- Erik…

\- But if you are too squeamish, just place the pistol in my hand and I shall pull the trigger.

\- Erik…

\- You may leave for now, Daroga. I don't need anything, and wish to sleep. Good night. – Erik stated calmly and he closed his eyes again.

As Mohammed- Ismael left the bedroom with shaking hands, he was nervously thinking through what Erik just asked of him. He knew well that Erik did not say it because he was delusional – no, it sounded like Erik, the healthy Erik. Who would think he wishes the time back when Erik lay on the bed without a word? Erik's returned consciousness was even a bigger burden than his coma. It was not only a burden for him, but for Erik too. The Persian knew that Erik will mercilessly count the days until that terrible thing shall happen… he really hoped Erik will be able to move again soon.

When Christine woke up and nervously headed to the bedroom to check on Erik, he was awake again, still holding the pencil the Daroga handed him a few hours earlier. When Christine saw Erik was finally conscious, she happily rushed to his side and exclaimed.

\- Erik! My dear husband… you woke up! Oh you woke up! Thank God!

\- Christine… - Erik wasn't all that happy about it, especially now that his beloved, but now not really desired wife was constantly screaming into his ear… his head was throbbing anyways…

\- I was praying… - she sobbed as she leaned closer, hugging his neck and kissing his cheek.

\- I am glad, Christine, but please be more quiet, my head really hurts.

\- I am sorry. – She whispered, and kissed his forehead. – But I am so happy…

\- Don't kiss me so much, Christine, you may get my illness.

\- It is not contagious. – Christine stated, then kissed him once more.

\- Good, but please stop, I am not in the mood for that.

\- All right, Erik, I am sorry. I don't kiss you if you don1t want me to…

\- Not now. – He sighed. – You should be prepared that maybe I won't be here for you to kiss. You have to get used to… missing me.

\- What do you mean? You won't die, Erik… no, you won't.

\- It depends. But we have a little time yet to find it out. Please take good care of my daughter. – He turned his head away and let out a deep sigh.

Christine saw that Erik wasn't in the mood for talking, so she left him alone. She asked the Daroga if he had talked to Erik yet since he was conscious. She did not understand Erik's last sentence and wanted to clear it up. The Persian hesitated for a time if he should tell the young woman what Erik said, as he knew that Erik sure did not want Christine to know about it… but after some minutes of battling himself, he finally decided that Christine had the right to know about it. As she heard about Erik's plan, she ran back to the bedroom, screaming in horror. The Persian tried to catch her, but he failed.

As Christine reached Erik's bedside and sat down quickly, the man looked at her tiredly.

\- What is it, Christine?

\- What on Earth are you talking about to Monsieur Khan?

\- Monsieur Khan shall receive a kick in his butt if I can ever lift my leg again, for telling you our secret.

\- Secret, Erik, you want to throw away your LIFE!

\- If a man is in need of help even to eat or drink, do you still call that a LIFE?

\- I do! My mother wasn't able to move either, Erik, but my father and I still loved her and we loved to take care of her.

\- Christine, I don't want you to take care of me. I don't want to be a ragdoll with a working mind.

\- It is just about what you want! And what about me? Don't you ask about what I want? I want my husband!

\- Erik can't be your husband if he doesn't get better, Christine. You will stay here, as a woman, alone, with an ugly toddler and an ugly, motionless, bed-ridden, disgusting "husband, you have to serve until he finally turns up his toes- maybe for years. I don't want you to waste your young years taking care of me. And if I cannot work how you two are going to make ends meet?

\- Erik, we will work it out…

\- No, Christine. I have already decided and thought things through. If I pass away, you are going to get my salary for a year as a widow. After you can give singing lessons until Mahtab grows old enough to be able to stay home alone. And then please return to the Opera. The audience loved you and they are going to forget you… this is not what you deserve. And if you can find a man who accepts Mahtab… please get married again. You are a precious woman and you don't deserve to grow old alone. Don't cry. Your Erik loves you.

\- I…. I love you too…

\- I know. But please stop crying and now let me rest. We have two weeks to find out what will happen.

Those two weeks passed both so fast and so slow. Slow because Christine had constant stomach ache due to all the worry she had to survive. Every doctor's visit was a nightmare, yet Doctor Bonsanté was positive that Erik got a bit better day by day, Erik was still unable to move. And that is what mattered in Erik's eyes – he wanted to get up. It did not matter to him if his temperature went down to the right level, it did not matter to him if his malaise was slowly disappearing, or that the pain wasn't that bad any more – but he was still too weak to even reach out for something, and it didn't want to get better.

Erik was more and more depressed about his immobility, and its consequences. At first he did not want the Daroga to touch him as he regained his consciousness, he yelled at him to go away when he wanted to bathe him, or tried to fight when he wanted to lift him, but all he could do was to grab the Persian's shirtfront in frustration. Later as the days passed, he became rather quiet and he let everything happen to him apathetically. He did not even try to speak or fight. He did not accept food, no matter if the Daroga or Christine tried to spoon-feed him. He did not protest when the Persian shaved him, as he started to grow a beard on his chin. After the temporary better state of health, he started to relapse quickly due to lack of food.

There was only one day left of the two week interval Erik gave himself, and as the doctor tried to talk to him, he just lay there without a word. He understood everything, just did not care. He did not even take an effort to moan or sigh. But the doctor realized something. Erik moved his leg to change position. He did not seem to notice it, and the doctor did not even want to make a remark. He knew Erik would not believe him, but he told it to the Persian and Christine as he was leaving.

\- If he moved his leg, I am sure he can move his hand as well. – The Persian said. – He just doesn't realize it. We have to make him find it out.

\- How? – Christine asked.

\- We have to make him reach out for something.

\- That is a good idea! – She exclaimed. – But what would he reach out for? I don't think he would want to write, so we can't hand him a pen…

\- There is something he will want to get, Christine. And I already know what it is.

In the evening, when Erik and Christine stepped in the bedroom, Erik was staring at the clock. They both knew what he was thinking about, but he did not leave them in doubt. As he heard their footsteps he slowly turned his head towards the Persian and softly said:

\- It's time, Daroga.

\- Erik, no! – Christine gasped and went down on her knees next to the bed.

\- Get out of here, Christine, it will be a nasty sight.

\- No! – she sobbed, clinging to the sleeve of Erik's nightshirt.

\- Daroga… if you please. And take Christine out.

Christine did not want to release Erik's sleeve and buried her face in his pillow. Erik wanted to stroke her hair to calm her, but he knew he couldn't do it.

\- Christine, please, leave the room.

\- No… I will stay… I will stay…

\- Very well. – Erik's tone changed to the irritated one. – If you wish to see it, then stay. I am not changing my mind.

The Daroga hesitated for some time, but after he left. He reappeared in a few minutes with Erik's gun in his right hand.

\- I can't do it, Erik. – He whispered.

\- You are a policeman. You can shoot. Just aim and pull the trigger, you can do it.

\- No. – He shook his head. – You have to do it yourself.

\- Well, coward Persian dog… then give it to me. – Erik demanded.

\- Take it, if you want it. – The Persian did not move closer. He was close enough for Erik to take the pistol out from him if he reached out his hand, bun did not directly place it in his hand. There was silence ant they could only hear Christine's sobs.

\- You are trying my patience! – Erik yelled and grabbed the gun and pulled it out from the Daroga's hand.

Only then he realized what he just did. He was staring at the gun in his hand for some seconds, then slowly bent and stretched his elbow. It worked with only a bearable level of pain. So did his left hand… and his legs. He turned his wrists up and down for a few times and he was astonished… he was able to move.

\- I…. I can… I can… - He gasped then took a second look at the pistol. It was suspiciously lightweight, now that he thought about it. – Daroga, this gun is unloaded.

\- It is. – The Persian smiled. – I just wanted you to reach out for it.

\- How did you know that I could move?

\- The doctor said so.

\- I knew it too. – Christine lifted up her head. She wasn't even crying.

\- Prima Donna! – Erik exclaimed. – How well you can play the desperate widow to be! I BELIEVED you… why didn't you tell em instead of this mini opera, eh?

\- Because you wouldn't believe us. – Christine explained. – You would have told us we only wanted to comfort you and wanted to lull you into false hope.

\- We wanted you to figure it out yourself. – The Dsroga added.

Erik just speechlessly turned his head, looking at the Persian and Christine in turns, then he burst out in a laughter that at first echoed of amusement, then slowly turned out to be a relieved yet still painful cry. He was crying and laughing at the same time, while Christine was gently stroking his shoulder.

\- Erik dear… everything is going to be fine… it will be all right…


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter XII.

After the incident with the gun, and the sudden realization of his mobility, Erik's recovery sped up quickly. He regained all his hope and was working on regaining his strength as well. He took his medicine, he ate regularly, he was training his muscles to be strong again, he would move his fingers like he was playing the piano on the covers and he would play violin in the air, while humming a melody. It amused him how well he was able to move his hands after a few days. He became fidgety as he could not stop being happy about he was able to move again. Yes, it was still painful a bit, but it did not bother him that much anymore.

\- I play something for you, Christine. – He smiled like a child and moved his hands for a time, imitating to play the violin, but after an idea struck him. – Bring me my violin, please. If I remember correctly I left it in the study.

\- Erik dear, I am afraid it will be too soon. You will overstrain your joints…

\- I miss music, Christine.

\- I will sing for you. – She offered kindly.

\- That would be nice. – He smiled and relaxed back on his pillows to listen his beloved wife.

Christine sang the Jewel Song from Faust, hoping that Erik will be delighted to hear something from his favorite opera, but halfway through the aria he shook his head and lifted his left hand.

\- Christine, stop.

\- Did I… make a mistake? – She gasped.

\- Not ONE. A lot. You are out of practice. You sound worse than before I started teaching you at the Opera.

\- Maybe I am just… tired?

\- Maybe. – He bequeathed. – But you should practice a lot Christine. You started neglecting music. You don't even play the piano any more.

\- You know I wasn't very good at it anyway. – She sat down on the edge of Erik's bed.

\- You are lazy. – Erik retorted. – You, Christine, my dear Christine, should be happy to have two nice little hands that work without any pain, to be able to play without moaning with discomfort, and you just chose not to…

\- I am not good at musical instruments, only with singing.

\- You, my dear, are just making up excuses. Do you know what you would need?

\- What?

\- A piano teacher to slap your hand with a ruler if you hit a wrong note and would give you 3-4 hits with a stick on your palm if you don't practice enough.

\- What kind of a piano teacher is that? – She asked angrily.

\- Like my mother. – He shrugged. – Or like I would be if I taught you to play instead of singing.

\- Your mother taught you to play the piano?

\- She literally hammered it into my head.

\- But… WHY?

\- A gentleman has some level of musical education. She did not do it to be cruel, Christine. I was a rather naughty little scoundrel as a boy. I would always be bent on mischief if I did not have a task to finish. That is why she gave me books to read and made me learn a lot – to occupy my thoughts. And that is what music was for as well. She had a grand piano in the salon, I think she inherited it from her parents and would send me to practice for 3-4 hours daily. That is how I did not have time to commit sins- and I always liked music a lot. Of course, as any other child, I did not like to practice. To tell the truth, I loathed it. I only liked when I was finally able to play something perfectly, but the road to it was bumpy – and boring. Scales, etudes, slow playing… I tried to avoid it as much as I could, but that was when I got the well – deserved punishment. If I had a franc for every slap on my palm, I would own the National Bank, I think, but I still did not hate music. I am actually thankful for it, Christine. If my poor unhappy mother did something right, this was it. She taught me of my responsibilities, she showed me that I had to work hard for something and I got the very little patience I now have from practicing. I needed such a treatment because without it I would have turned out a lazy person who always gets things the easy way, and my talent would have never showed up in music. I would not have turned out half as hardworking as I am now- and this is nearly the only good personality trait I have.

\- You are right in a way.

\- Of course, I am.

\- But I hope you are not following this method with our daughter. My father was teaching me and I daresay there are more possibilities to teach a child for music than beating.

\- I would never beat Mahtab, as I know well what it feels like to be beaten through a whole childhood. I would never cause my daughter such a fate. And I won't force music on her. My child will chose anything she likes to do. Erik is happy if Mahtab has no musical talent at all- it isn't important for me that she has to follow my path. She should be happy – that's all that matters.

Christine was happy to hear that Erik did not want to follow his mother's way of raising a child. She could sense and guess from the very little details Erik shared her about his childhood that his mother was very cold to Erik and would hurt him both physically and emotionally in her self-pity and sorrow. She sometimes wondered what Erik would have turned out with a loving mother who could accept and love him as he is- as she could finally look past his deformed face and found no difficulties in ignoring Mahtab's deformity. Why was it such a difficult and unsolvable thing for Erik's mother? How can a mother turn her heart away from a baby and a small child?

When Doctor Bonsanté assured everyone that Erik was no longer dangerous to the child's health, Christine took Mahtab to the bedroom with her so she will be able to see her so much beloved Papa. As the tiny girl was put on the bed next to Erik, she happily crawled to her father and hugged him. Erik was very happy to see his little daughter as well, after so many days and he was silently crying as he realized Mahtab's affection towards him. He held her in his arms and kissed her forehead several times, gently rocking her while Mahtab was happily repeating "Papa...Papa…Papa…!"

One more week had to pass until Erik was finally able to walk around the house as he did before. He was still feeling a bit weak and he still had to take some syrup the doctor prescribed for him, but finally he was able to dress up, walk, eat, drink and take care of his hygiene all alone. The Daroga still stayed though, Erik asked him not to leave his home yet and stay by his side when he walked outside to the garden to take a stroll on the so much needed fresh air – he was sometimes feeling a bit unstable and did not dare to walk all alone as he was afraid he might fall.

Fresh air made good to Erik, he liked to sit on the bench in the garden, looking at the fountain. Mahtab was usually with them, digging small holes in the dirt, or playing with the water, causing her to be either all dirty or all wet. Erik had to face another small problem of having a young child – he and his clothing wasn't that immaculate any more as it used to be before- Mahtab made sure to ALWAYS mess his trousers or shirtfront with something. Either she tapped him with hands full of dirt or some kind of food she was eating. Why Christine always kept giving her chocolate bon- bons? He was always carrying another handkerchief with him other than his, and quickly wet it at the fountain so he will be able to at least clean most of the mess off of the child's skeletal little hands before she could reach him. Washing a toddler's hands at least 1000 times a day was a new task he had to do.

Mahtab and Shadow became great friends, but Erik did not really like the fact. He was afraid the dog will lick Mahtab's face and he was disgusted by the mere thought. He would always keep an eye at the dog and if he was up to something horrible, he was chased away by Erik instantly. Even though Shadow loved the baby, he still was following Erik instead of the girl and was sitting or lying by his feet. Erik started to like the dog as now he was well – fed, clean and well – behaved, so he slowly gave up his old rule of Shadow was being sent out of the rooms. They ended up with the habit of Shadow lying in front of Erik while he was reading in his armchair in the drawing room. The dog was so tame and peaceful that Erik could even rest his feet against his back. It was so idyllic to watch Erik peacefully reading something with both Mahtab and Shadow around him.

Mahtab, even though no one has ever told her a single word about how sick Erik was – they thought she would not understand it in her young age- somehow was fully aware of her Papa's problems. She sensed Erik's weakness and wasn't that demanding about Erik has to pick up and carry her. She was just walking next to him with little support on furniture legs or banisters. She only climbed up on Erik's lap if he was fully and comfortably seated and she was way more careful than before. None of the adults understood it around her, but it was clearly the case – she was careful not to hurt Papa.

Erik got better and better day by day, but Christine was still worried about him. The doctor told them to be more careful about throat infections Erik might get later as the risk of him getting another inflammation was very likely if he catches a sore throat and it won't be cured properly. Even more terrifying was the thought that the infection could attack his heart, and that would most likely be deadly to him. She also knew that Erik worked way too much in the past few months and his system could not take it any longer – a serious illness took to his bed and it was very hard to cure it. What if next time they won't be so lucky? She was wondering if Erik should be working at all still. People in his age are most likely to be retired. But he already asked the doctor about when will he be able to go back to work- and the doctor said, only one or two more weeks and he could if he takes care of himself- the only problem was Erik's self-destructive lifestyle. He never knew what was enough or even too much for him. He worked too much and was always up to something. He started composing again as well. He spent hours in his study after Mahtab was put to sleep. When Christine asked him about it, he simply answered he missed working as he was in bed for too much time.

The doctor advised Erik to take long walks in the fresh air, and as Mahtab was always following him everywhere, Erik decided to take his daughter with him to walk. They were strolling in Paris, Erik spotted a different place for them to walk every day.

One day he randomly chose the railway station. He had a young daughter and everything was new to the child, so he wanted to show her everything. A railway station wasn't special for Erik, but a small child is happy to see everything they haven't met before. Trains were a great development in human history, Erik liked every scientific development as he as well was a man of science himself. He sat down on a bench with Mahtab on his lap, looking at the trains leaving and arriving. Mahtab got fascinated by trains and looked at them with eyes and mouth wide-open.

\- Choo- choo! – She exclaimed and clapped her tiny hands together.

\- Yes, choo-choo. – Erik smiled and nodded delightedly.

\- Choo! – She added and tried to whistle.

Erik knew it will be a hard job for the girl to learn how to whistle like everyone else as she only had half of her lips and she had trouble with lip rounding. Even Erik could not whistle like 99% of people, as he had deformed lips as well. But he knew what to do to teach his daughter for this musical act- just as he learned it when he was a boy. He did not whistle using his lips, but his throat, just like a bird, that is why his whistling sounded different, more high pitched, and birdlike. He was able to imitate all kinds of singing birds while just opening his mouth just as he was singing. If Mahtab is clever enough, she can learn it as well. He decided to teach her when they will be home alone, so he can show her the way to open her mouth or hold her lips. He just chose to entertain the toddler by horse-riding her on his knee while she was watching the trains. He was softly reciting a rhyme to her to teach her to rhythm, and she was laughing so happily. She loved walking with her Papa so much, and these new things she saw were so interesting!

Christine went to Erik's study to search for a sheet music. Erik told her once that he wrote a piece of sheet music when Mahtab was born. She wanted to search for it as she was sure Erik kept it, and wanted it to get framed so she could hang it somewhere in the house. She wanted to do it as a get well-gift for Erik, as she was sure he will be happy about it.

As she stepped closer to the desk she saw a letter on the top of a pile of some papers and a fully addressed envelope. It was to be sent to Erik's workplace. The letter was written in black ink with Erik's childish, kind of ugly cursive, but it was at least readable. It could be seen that it was the billionth' try of him, writing as nicely as possible.

 _Sir,_

 _This is Erik Spöke writing to you, who is working as an architect and structural engineer in the company, to bring in to your kind notice that I am going to retire shortly. Due to sudden negative changes regarding my health, and my old age, I got to the decision of retiring._

 _I would really like to thank you for providing me an opportunity to serve in this organization like this, which made me to learn a lot of new, and interesting things. The working environment provided by the company was excellent which proved to be great help in my career._

 _I would like to request to you to initiate the processes of reliving me of my charge and other paper work concerned to my retirement._

 _I remain your obedient servant,_

 _E. Spöke_

 _Paris, 30_ _th_ _April, 1887_

Christine was very surprised to read the letter. This means Erik was thinking about just the same thing as she did before and she could only agree with him. So that is why he was in his study, he was wording and writing his retirement application. She was thinking for a moment why did not he send out the letter yet, but after some minutes she realized Erik wasn't sure of his decision yet. That is why the letter stayed and stayed, for days. He went out every day, but could not bear himself to send the letter as he was still thinking. The letter was dated on 30th April, and that day the calendar showed 10th May. He had been hesitating for more than a week. Well, she should finish what was left unfinished.

Christine did not know how to tell Erik about their future, she lost her bravery when she thought about Erik's coming reaction to the news. She expected him to burst out in a fit of rage, but the letter was already sent out… and the truth was that she did not feel any regret about her action. She knew that she did the right thing, and Erik found it the right way deep down in his heart as well- if he did not, he wouldn't have written that letter in the first place.

She stepped behind Erik as he was reading something in his chair after she put Mahtab to sleep in the afternoon. She had a good 2 hour time interval without the child constantly clinging to Erik, so that is the time to talk to him. She felt a gulp in her throat, but she cleared it up with some coughs and took a deep breath. Erik lifted his head up to the noise.

\- Are you catching a cold? – He asked with concern.

\- No… don't worry, Erik.

\- All right, but please tell me if it gets worse. – He wanted to continue reading but he sensed Christine's look on him. - What is it you want to tell me? – He turned back and saw his wife standing next to him, turning rather pale.

\- I… I have been thinking about returning to stage in the next season. – Christine admitted softly.

\- Do you miss the Opera that is it? – Erik asked.

\- Yes. - She nodded.

\- I welcome the decision. – He agreed. – You had a great career and you weren't intended to be a housewife through your life. You are a talented young woman and Paris loved you. There is only one problem… Mahtab. We can't pretend she does not exist… it will be hard to find someone who looks after her while both of us are at work. Especially with her face. I know that you would mostly work in the evening, when I am at home, but as you know, rehearsals are in the afternoon when I am still at work.

Silence. Christine had to pause for a bit before starting the battle. She took a seat in the armchair facing Erik's, and was staring at her husband for a few minutes. Erik did not know what was wrong, but he knew something was bothering Christine very much – he could smell the fear around her. Finally she spat out a few soft, almost inaudible words:

\- Not anymore, Erik.

\- What? – He leaned closer, really not hearing too much of what his wife tried to tell him, even though his hearing was excellent.

\- You are… not working any more. – She repeated a bit louder.

\- What do you mean? – He inquired suspiciously.

\- Did you… go to your study today?

\- Not yet. – He shook his head.

\- There was a letter on your desk… I read it… and…

\- And…? – Erik slowly stood up with trembling hands. As there was silence again, Erik repeated his question, at least five times louder than before. – AND?

\- Erik please calm down…

\- AND? – He walked to the window and slammed his fist against the windowsill.

\- I sent it. – She finished her sentence finally.

Erik did not say a single word, for a time, he was only standing in front of the window, trying to restrain his temper, but one could see all his skeletal figure was shaking with rage. He was wheezing and tapping his fingertips against the wood. Christine found it a wiser move not to say a single word until Erik managed to calm down a bit. He suddenly grabbed a nearby placed small vase and threw it to the floor by his full force. The porcelain vase shattered to a million pieces in front of his feet, and the bits flew across the whole room.

\- Who allowed you to nose after something in Erik's study? – He yelled at his full volume.

\- Erik, please, you wake Mahtab up…

\- Shut your face! – His voice twisted with fury and his yellow cat-eyes flamed with uncontrollable fit of passion. He took some deep breaths, his chest heaved up and down as he tried to calm down finally.

After ten minutes or so, he composed himself enough to be able to listen to what Christine had to say. He did not get closer to her as he was worried that he might harm Christine in his fit of rage, he just leaned against the bookshelf for support and ordered Christine to continue her speech.

\- Erik, you wrote the letter…

\- I did. – He nodded. He found it better choice to talk in only brief sentences.

\- I just sent it.

\- Just… just… you say JUST…? Yes, I did… I wrote it. But I did not think it through yet… I did not decide yet. You have decided for me.

\- That is what you kept doing for me and I did not complain about it.

\- What… what did you say…? – Erik started shaking again.

\- At the Opera house you constantly gave me orders and expected me to obey without a single word.

\- If it was up to you, you would still be only a mediocre freshly graduated singer who could be thankful to play Siebel in Faust. Erik always made the right decisions, without him you wouldn't have reached the role you had.

\- I know. And now I made the right decision for you.

\- Who wears the pants in this marriage, eh? You or Erik?

\- You used to tell me that my opinion is equal to yours.

\- Yes, but still, I am the man! I put money on the table!

\- That's why I want to go back to the Opera!

\- And send me to my grave!

\- No one said that!

\- You did when you decided I was too old for work!

\- You told me the other day that you were old!

\- I am not THAT old!

\- Erik, I…

\- Enough! – He screamed and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him with such a force that the windows shook. The Daroga stepped out of his room to the sight that Erik ran out to the garden furiously and he could hear Christine crying in the drawing room.

The Persian found it the best if he tried to talk to Erik and calm him down. He knew it won't be an easy thing to do, but he had to try. Erik could be hazardous to anyone's health in this state of mind, and the Persian was sure he wouldn't be able to go near even his daughter if he is so mad. As he followed Erik, he noticed him in the backyard, kicking and beating the stone fence with rage, huffing like a seal.

\- Erik!

\- Don't… don't get closer! – Erik ordered.

\- I want to talk.

\- Not now.

\- But yes, Erik, we have to talk now.

\- I said NOT now, Daroga! Go and leave me be!

\- What on Earth is wrong with you, I haven't seen you in this state since the…

\- Ask Christine! – He jumped a few feet closer to the Persian who backed away a bit – he was scared of Erik when he was like this.

\- Erik, stay there… right… stay there.

\- Go away. – Erik growled like a dog, and picked up a pebble from the ground and threw it at the Persian's direction. The aim was perfect, the Daroga felt the rock hitting his shoulder.

\- Erik, stop throwing stones at me. I just want to talk to you.

No answer came, only another rock, this time it was a bit bigger and if the Daroga did not jump away from it, the stone would have directly hit his forehead. The Persian thought it will be better if he obeyed Erik's will and he hurried back in the house. Even while he was running, another rock hit his back. He went to the drawing room where he found the still crying Christine about Erik's current mood and he advised her not to approach him within a few mile radius.

They were worriedly waiting for Erik to calm down finally, but after a time, he disappeared form the backyard as well. They could not find him anywhere, but it was a cleverer choice not to even investigate where he was. He left the house and went somewhere to release his anger. Christine was sure they won't see him for hours to come.

She wasn't wrong, however she did not expect it will take him so long to go back home. She feared she won't ever see him again, and was half mad with worry. The Daroga tried to make her feel better with less success. Erik was never out of house for so long time.

It took three days until Erik finally reappeared, in a surprisingly good mood and with big boxes. His hands were full of them. They were gift wrapped and one of them was so huge he could barely balance it under his right arm. He stepped in the house and placed the biggest box in the hall and hurried to the drawing room. He packed down the boxes, but Christine wasn't there.

\- Christine… Christine…- He was searching for her frantically in the house. The young wife finally stepped out of the music room with red eyes from crying.

\- Erik..? – Her voice still wore the signs of very hard crying.

\- Oh, Christine, my dear Christine…- He hurried to her, going down on his knees in front of her legs, bending down to the ground and he started kissing the hem of her dress.

\- Where… where have you been for three days? – Christine cried out in anger and relief mixed together.

\- Erik is sorry…- he whispered. – He is so very sorry…. He had to think things through… he went… to his old house… to think…

\- And have you decided? – She asked bitterly.

\- Yes, Christine. – He stood up slowly, taking his wife's trembling hands. – Everything shall be as you wish, my dear… Erik will do everything as you say… he will be your devoted little husband, if you chose him to stay at home with the child, he will. If you want to go back onstage, you shall…

\- Have you changed your mind?

\- I was thinking… as I said… and realized something, Christine. – He looked down on his shoes in shame. – You were right, Christine, I made the right decision when I wrote the letter, I was just too weak to fulfill the act. But… you did the right thing, Christine. I know my behavior was… unacceptable… and horrible... but… a man… you see… a man is a very proud creature. He doesn't accept it easily if he isn't as powerful as he used to be. I was afraid I will be home, slowly withering away, like elderly men in Paris… I thought, with retirement, only newspaper reading and sitting at home all day, will be my thing to do…

\- Oh, Erik…

\- But… I realized that I will have many things to do. I have a young daughter to care for, and teach… I always loved to teach, Christine… and working out a small mind is a very nice job. I will have more time to spend with her. I realized that I barely met her when I was still working. And… if I go on like this… just regaining my strength after a serious illness… Mahtab needs a father, Christine… what if she has to grow up without Erik…? I have to take care of myself… and accept that it is more useful for the family if I stay home.

\- You understand me. – Christine smiled with tears in her eyes.

\- I do now. I am sorry I needed so much time to understand your intentions. You are the best wife one can ask for. And I would like to apologize to you about my tantrum the other day and my absence and the worry it has caused you in these past days.

\- Let's just forget it, Erik, the important thing is that you now see what I meant and I am sorry as well. Forgive me for making a life changing decision without you, I know I should have spoken to you about it, but I was afraid you won't let it happen.

\- I think the best is we both forgive and forget. – Erik nodded. – But still, I want to show you something my dear. Just give Erik a few seconds and he will be right back here.

Erik returned shortly, after some minutes and excitedly gestured to Christine to follow him. She was led to the salon where she saw a huge bouquet of red and white roses combined in a large vase they did not have before, and around it there were many gift wrapped boxes. She speechlessly approached them and looked at Erik with surprise.

\- Go on, my love… open them… they are all for you… from your devoted and penitent husband.

\- Erik… you didn't have to buy me gifts to forgive you…

\- I know. But you, my dear, deserve it for being my wife and for bearing my temper… that is the least I can do to apologize.

In the boxes there lay beautiful new dresses for Christine, in every possible colors, shoes, gloves and there was a smaller box as well. Christine instantly recognized it to be a jewel box. She opened it curiously and saw the most beautiful bracelet she could have ever imagined in it. She carefully lifted it out and saw something was engraved in the backside. She was touched to read the words "Little Lotte" on it – that was a nickname Erik called her by sometimes when he wanted to show his affection or whispered it in her ear when they got intimate. She turned back and smiled at Erik and only these words left her lips:

\- Angel of Music.

Of course, Mahtab wasn't an exception. She got a gift as well. The biggest box was for her and it contained a giant rocking horse. Mahtab seemed to adore it from the first second. Erik looked at the toddler girl with a content smile and henow was looking forward to spend his days with her- the only person who ever felt so much love for him from the first seconds of her life.

The Daroga heard three taps on the guest room's door. He guessed it was Christine, asking for his support, so he quietly called out that she may come in. He was shocked to see Erik entering the room. He carried something in his arms. He jumped up as he did not want to wait until Erik reaches him while he was seated, he was prepared for the worst. Erik quietly sttod in front of him for a few seconds then he sighed and silently said:

\- Forgive me, Daroga.

\- What? – He leaned closer to the ex-Opera Ghost.

\- I asked you to forgive me, please. Erik did not mean to throw stones at you.

\- Oh… you are forgiven…- The Daroga nodded as he tried to search his memory for a moment in the past when Erik apologized to him for something, but he failed to remember a matchng occasion.

\- Thank you, Mohammed. And thank you for… all the services you… you have and had been doing for me… and for being my friend.

\- Oh, Erik, you… it is nothing…

\- I want to give you something. – He reached out his hand towards the Persian that contained a smaller box. – I know I can't repay you with it… and I don't even want to. But I ask you to accept it from Erik… as a sign of his friendship.

The Persian curiously took the box and opened it. It contained a nicely decorated pocket watch. Mohammed- Ismael gasped in surprise.

\- Erik…

\- I always felt guilty when I ruined your favorite watch in the lake. I know you have another one now but I also know that you loved that one very much. I understand as I love mine too and would be upset if some moron would destroy it. This is the same type. I hope you can forgive me for your watch… and for everything.

This was a very rare and preciously sincere moment of Erik's good heart. The Persian, even though he mostly felt uncomfortable to touch Erik, he placed his hand on that bony shoulder and looked into Erik's golden eyes forgiving and touched. They did not say a single more word – they understood each other without expressing their feelings in meaningless phrases.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter XIII.

The family had to get used to a whole new lifestyle.

At first both of the parents were at home. No one ran to work in the morning, Erik did not have to get up that early anymore, so he had more time to sleep in. He turned out to be happier and less stressed during the morning, and he tolerated Mahtab's morning playtime better as now he did not have to hurry anywhere. To be honest, he did not feel so relaxed at any time in his life before- their first year of marriage was so stressful for him because of his inner demons and doubts that he did not have a moment of peace morning or night, and after came the work day by day… But now he lay beside his wife in bed, relaxed and filled with pleasant thoughts.

Christine did not even dare to believe she finally had her husband with her in bed by the time she woke up at half past seven, or eight o' clock. She had been dreaming of a married life like this, waking up together in happiness and no stress, no worries… it was too good to be true.

On a beautiful morning after spending their days together for two weeks, she suddenly got in the mood for a little love they could share, so she playfully kissed Erik's forehead and lay so close beside him that her back touched his chest. Erik woke up to the feeling that Christine's golden locks were tickling the hole where his nose should have been. He turned his head away, sneezing.

\- Bless you, my Erik. – Christine laughed softly.

\- Thank you. – Erik murmured still half asleep and nearly drifted back to his dreams when he felt something again. Christine hugged his neck and kissed his cheek, then gave him a kiss on the lips. – Oh… what's the time? – He yawned.

\- Oh, Erik, don't be so precise. – Christine sighed. – Don't think about time now, we are finally together… just the two of us…- she added naughtily.

\- What do you mean…? – He lifted up his head curiously and blushed bright red of the sudden realization about what is Christine talking about.

\- Did you think we will never do it again, dear? – Christine whispered into Erik's ears playfully, but he just let out a small gasp and jumped up in sitting position.

\- Oh… God… Christine….! - He lifted his fist in front of his lips and was just staring at her for a few seconds before looking away in shame.

\- We are married, Erik, and we have done it before… What is the matter?

\- Yes… yes… b-b-b-but… but n-n-n-not now… I… I … can't… it is too… LIGHT in here. – He stuttered, nervously gesturing to the window and without any more explanation or any words at all, he jumped out of bed, quickly dragging his bathrobe and putting it on himself in hurry. He wouldn't have needed it on him as he wore nightwear, as he always did, and it was a warm day, the morning sunshine heated up the room through the window. Erik muttered something about having to check the child under his breath, then left the room as quickly as possible. Christine sighed in disappointment and lay back down on her pillow.

Yes, this was one weak spot of the marriage – lovemaking. Erik was very passionate and loving man, but he wouldn't dare to touch Christine too often. In their first year or so, Christine did not even mind it. She thought that she was going to be Erik's wife without ever being touched in a way only a husband may touch his wife – and this thought made her happy in the beginning. She could not imagine Erik doing such things to her she had heard of in some rare occasions… they sounded rather unpleasant and frightening, especially with Erik. Yet she was afraid of the thing they would most likely never commit, she couldn't know that Erik was even more afraid and uncomfortable about this issue than her. As they did not share a bedroom for a long time until this new house was built and finally furnished, it was easy to avoid.

But one night… it just happened. It was after their first wedding anniversary. They slept in the same bedroom and Erik woke up from one of his returning terrible nightmares, bathing in sweat, crying out in horror, and he let out a few gasps, clinging to Christine who also sat up worriedly. She tried to calm Erik by stroking his hair and cheeks even without her intentions. It was the first time Christine touched Erik without thinking of his appearance and when she really wanted to comfort him. She kissed his forehead, that was always a good way to calm Erik a little, and after some time passed, she comfortingly rubbed his back. Erik hugged her close to his bony chest, playing with her hair between his cold and stick-like fingers. This was the first time she did not care about Erik's coldness or bony and skeletal figure. Erik was right when he said "One can get used to everything." She did get used to Erik. And as she was stroking and kissing him… Erik got braver and braver about her as well. That was a night when both of them lost their fear and negative feelings about that special touch… at least, temporarily. And finally it just happened. Kisses turned to something more serious. It wasn't that bad as she feared it – to be honest, it was rather quick and passionate, but she had to admit that it wasn't the best one for either of them.

Erik, despite of calling himself that, and choosing it to be the title of his opera, wasn't really a Don Juan Triumphant. He did not even like if Christine, either playfully or teasingly called him that. He took it as an insult and would not talk to Christine any further that day. She had to realize that Erik used it as self-irony, not only regarding his face, but his soul and his weakness in sexuality. It was rather hard to get intimate with Erik, he needed to be in the right mood for it, to begin with, and that happened way too rarely, and even if he was in the mood, sometimes he would still deny it because of being extremely shy and ashamed of his face and body. To be honest, Christine never saw Erik completely naked. He never changed in front of her and when that rare occasion came that they did the deed, Erik's first action was to put all the lights off and closing the drapes, so Christine could only see his glowing eyes in the dark if they weren't closed, of course. She did not see him, she only felt him, every once in a blue moon.

It wasn't enough. Since she loved Erik and accepted him as he was, she would desire it more often. But the last time they made love was exactly the time when Mahtab was conceived. They celebrated a very successful night at the opera a bit more passionately, and to tell the truth Erik had a bit more wine than he got used to, maybe that is why he was so easygoing about it. As she thought back at that night and remembered how good it was, she decided that she was going to change one more thing in their marriage. No, she won't talk to Erik about it as she knew well that he would just stutter something about it and change the subject as soon as possible – but there are ways a woman can have an effect on her husband! She will try hard.

She started to brush her long blonde hair in front of the mirror dreamily, she wondered if she should try out a different hairstyle maybe, to be a bit more exotic to Erik… what hairstyle he might find more desirable…? She did not have much time to think as she heard three nervous taps on the door, then the visitor not even waiting for her reply swung the door wide open and her husband tucked his head in. He looked a bit irritated.

\- You still aren't dressed properly? What the Devil is taking so long?

Erik was perfectly dressed already, and his hair was done too, he wasn't even in sleeves or in smoking-jacket as usual at home, and he wore a black jacket with gray-black striped trousers, a light gray waistcoat with white shirt and black cravat. Christine had an impression that he got dressed up so nicely because he wanted to take her out. The strange thing was he did not wear any mask at all.

\- I was wondering about my hair… - She explained. She always felt the need to explain the situation to Erik when he scolded her for something, like he was really her father.

\- What on Earth can you wonder about it, woman? Just do it as usual. You have half an hour to get properly dressed and show up in the music room. I am waiting for you.

Christine got very surprised about Erik's tone and the precise time limit he gave her, just as when they met for the first time. She did not understand the sudden change in Erik's behavior. Could it be she hurt him somehow in bed? And what does he want in the music room? She found it a wiser idea not to make Erik wait longer than he ordered, as it would make him angrier. She put on one of her nicest dresses she got from Erik and did her hair, and she hurried to the music room. As she opened the door, she saw Erik sitting at the piano, impatiently tapping his fingertips against the edge of the instrument. He let out a sigh once Christine appeared in the room.

\- I am here. – She said smiling.

\- I see. – Erik nodded, taking a glance at his pocket watch. – You are five minutes late. I suggest it won't happen again.

\- I am sorry. – She closed the door with trembling hands, not sure about what they are here for. – Why did you ask me to come here, Erik…?

\- Why, why, to practice of course. – He turned back in surprise. – How do you want to go back to the Opera, sounding like a dying chicken?

\- Dying chicken? Stop insulting me! – She gasped, feeling insulted.

\- Stop being a diva. – Erik ordered. – You are out of practice, you need lessons.

\- Oh! – She sounded so relieved and excited. – Music lessons with you, Erik, this is awesome! – She ran closer to the piano and wanted to hug Erik, but he lifted his hands up to protect himself from the hug.

\- We are not here for mushy stuff. – He turned away to the piano keys and cracked his fingers. – Stand up straight. – He added.

Christine stood up in singing position, and tried her best to follow Erik's instructions. They did scales and warm – ups at first, something that Christine did not like to do. She wanted to sing an aria at last, but Erik was so perfectionist about the warm – ups that he did not let her finish them until they were perfect. Christine had to admit that she was indeed out of practice. She made her old mistakes again, breathing problems, trouble reaching high notes, trouble with keeping up high notes for a long time. Erik was very displeased to hear she wasn't able to sing a high E for 15 seconds.

\- This is unacceptable. – He groaned. – Look what you have done!

\- Me..? Why me?

\- Who else? Did I ruin your technique, perhaps? Or Mahtab? Indeed it was you. A singer can't permit herself two – year vacations, my Christine, and expect Erik to just magically fix up your mess.

\- You have done it before. – She smiled. – You will do it now as well.

\- Erik has to do everything here, which is exactly the problem, yes.

\- Why are you like this today? – Christine took a step closer.

\- To your place, back away.

\- You are talking to me like to a dog!

Erik sighed and slammed an accord on the piano, not even being sure why he did it or what did he want to play. He suddenly started to play "La ci darem la mano" from Mozart's Don Juan, but he did not sing and stopped playing before Christine could join in. He was silently staring to the keyboard, and to his hands like he saw them for the first time.

\- It is not good, every damned opera is about… - He stood up and walked to the window, slowly. – Even mine… my damned opera is about that as well…

\- About what? – Christine asked curiously.

\- Can someone just not… live in peace? Why do I always have to…

\- Have to… what?

\- Have to meet some kind of requirements. Always.

\- Erik, I am the one who has to meet your requirements.

\- And I am to yours. Be kinder, be nicer, be less stressed, be patient, come home for dinner, make money, stay at home, and now… you expect me to be… a Don Juan…?

\- You are my husband, I did not know that is so much to ask for once in two years.

\- You told me I was old, and as I am old that was something to be expected.

\- I just want to know what your problem might be today.

\- Nothing. I just realized I can't please you, no matter what the Hell I try to do, that is all.

\- Erik…

\- And it bothers me that everything I do reminds me of it. My failure. My… weakness. I can't be a good husband to you, Christine, no matter what I do, there is always one more thing I should do otherwise to make you happy. Maybe… maybe you should have married him. So you could be happy.

Without another word he left the room, but turned back from the door, looked her in the eye for some seconds then added: - That's all for today. You will have another lesson tomorrow.

Christine sat down to the piano after Erik shut the door after himself, and was staring at Erik's sheet music for a time. She did not think Erik felt the way he just confessed. He was trying so hard to be a good husband and a normal man. She kept forgetting how hard it was for Erik, after so many decades of isolation, to get back in society. He seemed to handle it so well and Christine did not think it was so unbearable for him. Finally that he did not have to work and keep in touch with others, only his family, he hoped he will find inner peace- but he once again felt insecure because he felt he couldn't be good enough for Christine either. She felt sorry and guilt, but she thought she should not follow Erik to talk to him – he most likely wouldn't want to talk and it would make him even more stressed. She did not know how to make Erik feel better – but she knew she will, somehow.

The music lessons continued every day, even on Sundays. At the Opera she did not have music lessons on Sunday, but now Erik stated she needs them, so there was no excuse. Christine was happy to have lessons with Erik again, that was the only thing she loved about their relationship at the Opera, and now as they were married, they were mostly even more pleasant. Erik calmed down in the coming days as Christine did not force anything on him, yet she did not have the opportunity to talk too much to him for two more days- he slept in his study, if he slept at all. She chose to leave Erik alone, and as she later found out, this was the best thing she could have done.

As she got better and better with singing Erik got more and more pleased with the result of the singing lessons and at least started calling her by nicer names during their time together. They were alone, without Mahtab constantly clinging to Erik, and drawing away his attention, that was something she loved as well. Mahtab, however, wasn't that pleased about these happenings. There was a time when she played nicely in her room, but other times she went to the door of the music room and banged on it. Erik could never continue playing when it happened, he was very easily distracted and a very picky and proud artist – no one should bother his playing with even the slightest noise or he would instantly stop. He stood up from the piano chair and opened the door for the demanding toddler, giving Christine a bit of disappointment.

\- What Papa and Mama do? – Mahtab asked. Her vocabulary started to skyrocket in these months and she now could speak in sentences.

\- Papa and Mama are singing. – Erik lifted her up on his lap.

\- Mahtab singing too. – She demanded.

\- Can you? – Erik asked, laughing.

\- I can. – She nodded.

\- Erik, we should… continue the lesson, perhaps? – Christine crossed her arms on her chest.

\- Just a minute, Christine, you are not the only woman in Erik's life any more. – He chuckled and let Mahtab hit some keys on the piano. – She is turning rather musical, don't you think?

\- I guess… but she can only be musical with parents like us, Erik. – She leaned closer and stroke the tiny girl's hair.

\- I think you may stay dear. – Erik smiled and kissed her forehead. – But please promise you will be a good girl and not bother Papa and Mama, will you?

\- Yes. – Mahtab nodded as she was placed on the sofa by Erik.

\- Good girl. Do you want to hear some Magic Flute, eh?

\- Yes, yes, magic. – She clapped.

\- Christine, dear, Pamina – Papageno would you please, from the end of first act. – Erik walked back to the piano smiling.

Mahtab never heard her parents singing together before, and yet she was such a small child, she could sense the otherworldly beauty of the harmony her Mama's and Papa's singing voices did together. Despite her habits, she stayed completely still and silent while the lesson lasted. Christine did not even dare to dream that the child was able to concentrate for so long time. She was enchanted by the beautiful melodies she heard and forgot about all her problems, just looked at her parents with her twisted little mouth wide- open.

Weeks and months passed, with the singing lessons they now shared with Mahtab as well. It was surprising to see that the child misbehaved only sometimes during the music lessons, and when she did, that was instantly stopped if Erik told her to stop it. But oh, how very rare it was when Mahtab did not misbehave ANY OTHER TIME…

She became a tiny barrel of gunpowder by the time her second Birthday arrived. She screamed, she threw things at Christine, she tossed herself to the ground and oh God, screamed like a banshee. A little demon. Christine started to understand what did the word "No" meant. Everything was "No" to Mahtab right at that time. She would say no to get dressed with Christine's help, to get dressed all by herself, to eat, to sleep, to go outside, to stay inside, and to take a bath….

The other problem was that Erik and Christine did not agree in the way they should handle Mahtab's tantrums. Erik always chose to ignore the screaming little thing until she finally calmed down, noticing she has no audience for the play. Erik also often would do "time outs" for the child, she had to stand in the corner, face to the wall for as many minutes as her current age. If she left, she was carried back by her father but he did not talk to her to calm her down, or did not say a single word. Christine found these methods way too cruel and emotionally empty for such a tiny child. She tried to calm her, she would talk to her endlessly while Mahtab kept screaming on her full volume, inches away from Christine's face. The result was that Mahtab was way more respectful towards Erik as she knew well that he will punish her, while Christine would not. She did not listen to her mother. Erik tried his best to make Mahtab obey both of them equally, but the girl knew well that Christine was nothing to worry about.

Christine also gasped at the ways Erik would treat Mahtab's sudden tantrum on the street. It was a beautiful day in early September. Mahtab was taken with them to the park for the usual Sunday walk, she wore a silk veil to cover her face. They sold some chocolate and cotton candy in a cormer they passed and Mahtab's small mismatched eyes lit bright up. She stopped and Erik felt a sudden drag at the bottom of his jacket.

\- What is it, dear? – He leaned down to the girl who pointed at the desired direction.

\- You buy candy! – She stomped her tiny feet against the ground.

\- Ask nicely, Mahtab, as I taught you, then I will.

\- You buy candy! – She louder, almost screaming.

\- No, Mahtab. How do you ask for something?

\- I WANT candy! – She tried to push Erik towards the man who sold her precious candy, but Erik shook his head and caught the girl's hand.

\- You are not getting any. – He pulled her to the other direction, but Mahtab threw herself to the ground and made Erik drag her around as she started screaming again.

\- Erik, for Heaven's sake, buy her that candy…

\- No. – The man shook his head. – No, because she uses this tone with me.

They arrived at a near bench and Erik sat down with Christine while Mahtab just lay on the ground in front of them, hitting his fist against the pebbles. She yelled about candy, but they did not really understand it anymore because she was so worked up that she could hardly articulate any more. People who strolled by were turning around to glance at the child in a nasty hissy fit.

\- Erik, dear, please, go and buy her something, everyone is looking at us…

\- Just let them. – He shrugged.

\- Erik…

\- I said as I said.

\- If you don't buy her something, I will! – She nearly stood up, but Erik caught her arm.

\- You stay here, Christine. That is exactly why she is doing it. Let her.

\- But the people…

\- We will most likely never meet them again. What do they matter?

They sat there for a while, while the girl continued on with the mini- play she directed herself. Erik wondered how she has so strong lungs. Just as he thought about this, he could see through the light material of the veil that the child's face is turning to a shade of blue because of the lack of oxygen. He knew he had to do something to stop Mahtab's fit of rage, but no way should she get that damned sweet she is yelling about…

He had a sudden idea and he let out a scream that made Christine's heart stop for a second in horror. Erik, with his powerful operatic voice had an effect on the whole park, but now he did not care. He did just the same as the child – he just jumped up from the bench and stomped, still screaming, and finally lay on the ground, kicking and yelling about he did not want to listen to the child any more. Christine, for some seconds, thought that Erik had gone crazy. How else could a grown up man do this in the open street at broad daylight? But in the end she understood what was going on as Mahtab stood up, staring at her father with a mix of astonishment and pity. She walked closer to Erik and hugged him, to that Erik stopped his very well- played show as well.

\- Papa feeling good? – Mahtab stroke Erik's shoulder with worry in her voice.

\- Now yes. – Erik sighed in relief, knowing that he can finally stop the tantrum.

He stood up, rehashed both his and the toddler's clothes and on a completely casual voice he asked if they may continue walking. This act of his totally scared Christine, but she had to admit, it worked. After that, Mahtab never threw a tantrum on the street.

She was happy to go back to the Opera, to be honest. She missed the place and well, she was actually happy to free from home for a few hours. She was ashamed to admit that she felt relieved to know that Erik had to deal with their daughter's fits of rage while she was away.

The Opera had "Tales of Hoffmann" on program in that season and Christine got the role of Olympia, the singing doll, with one of the hardest arias of opera history. She was quite good at learning it, but the movements she had to make during the song were a bit too unnatural for her, as she had to move her arms and legs like an automaton, as that was exactly what she had to play. As she asked for Erik's help with practicing, Mahtab got a new hobby besides trains – dolls! Dolls that could move in such a funny way! Her love and adoration for trains did not fade with time, Erik had to take her to the railway station once a week and they would look at the awesome things she still called "Choo-choo". Erik often joked about if Mahtab was born as a boy the profession she'd chose would either be a runner, a station agent, or the worst scenario, a ticket inspector. She already had a bed shaped like a locomotive that Erik made for her as a gift, it was even painted like a real train. She loved that bed, she would play in it during the day as well, and would listen to Erik's bedtime story or lullaby in it with such a joy as she slept in it for the first time. If she did not want to eat, Erik just had to say "Here comes the choo-choo" while spoon – feeding her, and she opened her mouth that instant. And now, as she saw her Mama moving like a doll – she started imitating her and walked around in the house like that. She would walk to Erik and turn her back to him, pretending she needed to be wound up again, just as Christine did during the Doll song's rehearsals. Erik put his bony finger against the tiny child's spine and turned his wrist round a few times to make her happy, and so the fun could continue.

Erik had a sudden idea about Mahtab's growing interest about automatons and Christine who did not leave him be some months before about going to bed with her again. Maybe she wanted it because she would like to have another child…? Maybe she did not dare to tell him the real intentions behind her ask? It is very much understandable, as he thought things through – Christine likes children, and Mahtab would be happy with a sibling. She would at least have someone to play with, as Erik knew well that no other child ever will want his little girl as she is… Maybe Christine is right about they should have another child…

But who said it always has to be the usual way?

He was acting strange in the coming few weeks. Once Mahtab was put to bed, he would always lock himself in the study, working on something. Christine was worried as Erik slept way too little again. She kept asking him about what was he working on so feverishly, but Erik only gave her a mysterious smile and said it was a surprise. She heard strange noises from the study sometimes, like he was constructing something. She did not know what her husband invented but even in the working progress, she had some fears about it. Erik's mastermind was so great no one could ever see in his head and this fact in itself was awesome and frightening at the same time. Three weeks it took to finish whatever it was.

In a morning when Christine went to the kitchen to drink some tea, she saw a small figure sitting at the kitchen table. At first she thought it was Mahtab, but had no idea how did she climb up to the chair all alone, it was yet too high for her. She greeted the child and saw it jump off of the chair but as it reached the ground, it gave a very creepy sound, like it wasn't even a real child.

\- Mahtab? … - She called out nervously. The thing walked close to her and stood in front of her, lifting its arms in the air. No, it indeed wasn't real. It was a doll. Same height as Mahtab, it had a porcelain- like pale face, red lips she could move while talking… she even had teeth… blonde wig, glued on its head and even her blue glass eyes moved around. She was dressed in the finest clothes one could dress a toddler in – nice red skirt with floral pattern and a white blouse.

\- Mama. – It called her… Mama…?

It had a voice like a little girl, only it talked softly and gave a strange wheezing noise while doing so, and one could hear some squeaking as she opened and closed her mouth. It was perfectly mobile, she could even move her fingers, like a normal girl. But she wasn't at all cute… she was SCARY!

Christine ran out of the kitchen, screaming for help. The thing followed her to the hall and only that was the time Erik appeared and caught it.

\- Come here, my little one. – He laughed, still looking at the horrified Christine.

He carried the thing under his arm and gently lifted it up so Christine could see it better. That was something she really did not want to – see it any better.

\- What the Hell is this? – She gasped, pointing at the doll.

\- A child… another child for you, my dear. From your loving and devoted little husband.

\- What…? Why…?

\- It is even better, you see. It is already old enough to talk, it won't scream all day, it won't have to eat, and Mahtab will love her. And well, you see… we can't have the risk of having a baby like Mahtab again… she is perfect in every way.

\- But she has no heart…

\- She doesn't even need one. Well, I can program her to follow some of the behavioral patterns a living child would do, if it makes you happier.

\- Erik, I don't want another child. And even if I would… I would want to have it the normal way, if you don't get mad at me for saying this.

\- Oh… - Erik nervously turned the little thing around a few times in his hands and took a deep breath: - It seems like I misunderstood you again…- He sighed and turned around to carry the thing back to his study to dissemble it, but he was distracted by Mahtab's happy exclamation. She stood behind him and clapped her tiny hands together as she saw the automaton under Erik's arm.

\- Papa! Doll! – She pointed at the thing happily.

Erik looked at Christine questioningly, as he would ask for help what on Earth he should do now. Christine nodded. To this, Erik knelt down to the child and placed the doll in front of her.

\- This is your friend, dear. Her name is Cadence. Do you like her?

\- Yes, yes, I like her. – She nodded and hugged the little robot against her.

\- Good… just be a good girl, and tell her something, she will do it.

Erik looked at the girl smiling as she ordered Cadence around the house. At least he could make SOMEONE happy in this family.

As they stayed just the two of them again, Erik and Christine were staring at each other for some minutes, then Erik wanted to turn away in embarrassment and walk to his study to compose, but his wife took his hand and looked at her with love.

\- Erik, I think I made a mistake the other time when I did not say anything after you confessed me your fears.

\- Let's not talk about this…

\- But yes, we should. Erik, you are the best husband one can ask for, and I appreciate the things you keep doing for me to make me happy.

\- Do I… make you happy, Christine…? – He asked with trembling voice.

\- You do, Erik dear. I love you.

\- I… love you too, Christine. Very much so.

\- I would just like if we got closer to each other a bit more. – She confessed.

Erik closed his eyes for some moments and a bit hesitated, he said:

\- I don't promise anything… but I will try my best to… be Don Juan Triumphant… to you.

\- Oh Erik… - She smiled and kissed Erik's cold forehead


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter XIV.

A year passed.

It was the year 1888, a leap year, which contained Erik's first Birthday since Mahtab's birth. Erik did not celebrate his Birthday in every year, as everyone else did. He was born on 29th February, and as that day was missing from the calendar most of the years, he rather chose not to make a fuss about it and go on without his Birthday- he was used to no one celebrating it, and he rather felt uncomfortable about being so spoiled for one day- he got his favorite meal cooked, with a glass of great wine and a special, very expensive and unique cigar Christine would leave on the harmonium for him- he was, of course, happy for it, at the same time. This year he was already a retired man, leading a pleasant life with his wife and child, so his Birthday was a very pleasant one as well- and he got so touched about Mahtab also gave him a gift. She was yet too small to understand the concept of Birthdays and why did not her father have them every year as her Mother does, and so does she, but she wanted to make Papa happy- just as always. He got a box of bitter chocolate – he loved that the most- that Mahtab gave him and on the top of it there was a paper on which he could see the print of Mahtab's small skeletal hand in red watercolors and above it he could read "Joyeux Anniversaire, Papa!" with Christine's beautiful cursive. He smiled, and could not help but tears were forming in his eyes. He was such an old man – reaching 56 right that day- who knew he will be able to have so beautiful moments at such an age?

1888 was a year of complete delight with Mahtab growing and developing quickly. She was now talking in more complicated sentences and she was fully potty trained when she was nearly 3 years old. Her parents were both happy to finally get rid of diapers. She was talkative, cheerful and a little bit spoiled, to tell the truth, but everyone liked her as she was.

It was really a total sweet year – save for one thing: Cadence.

Christine had to admit that the automaton was good for one thing – Mahtab got much calmer since she had a friend to play with, no matter if it was alive or just a machine. It was a very well- programmed machine, to begin with, it could imitate human movements and reactions. Mahtab walked with it, holding hands. Her tantrums reduced in this one year since Cadence was a part of the family, as she was occupied by her friend- they even "slept" together in Mahtab's locomotive bed. They talked to each other, and to Erik, he even gave them kisses equally – just as the automaton was a child of his own as well. Cadence was dressed in a different outfit every day, Mahtab picked out the clothing she should wear for the day and it had sleepwear too- it was treated just like a real child of their own. Cadence also "grew" along with Mahtab- so they were always the same height. Erik explained it was because he designed extendable legs and arms for Cadence, so she was able to grow. The only thing Cadence wasn't able to do was to take a bath with Mahtab. It worked by some kind of electric power and Erik explained Christine that putting the thing in the same bathtub with Mahtab will instantly cause the child's death.

\- No matter how she wants it, never ever let Cadence near water. – He warned her numerous times.

Christine wasn't too fond of the doll, though. She found it way too creepy and a shiver ran down her spine when she saw it. It was such a lifeless thing without any soul or emotions – it could imitate some reactions but her voice was so mechanical and monotone. And she made weird noses while moving. But this was the smaller problem. The bigger one was the problem that even the Persian pointed out on a Sunday visit of his:

\- Erik, the child thinks Cadence is alive. She is just a 3 year old girl. You know at this age they can't make a difference between dreams and reality- and she will treat everyone as they were robots.

\- Don't dare to call my Cadence a robot. – Erik said, insulted.

\- But it IS a robot, Erik. I know you like to build them, but they can't be like real people. Never. You can't replace human interactions with a world of robots.

\- They are actually MUCH better than people, and human children. They will never call Mahtab ugly or a monster, you see. As long as she is happy with her, what is the problem?

\- Erik… Do you plan to make more of them? – Christine asked cautiously.

\- I don't know yet. It seems like Cadence is enough for her right now. – He took a sip of his tea, and turned his head towards the door to see what was happening outside in the hall.

The sight his eyes met made him instantly spit his tea out and causing him a coughing fit, which resulted in him spilling the remaining tea on his trousers and waistcoat. He jumped up and ran outside, examining the situation closer, hoping that his eyesight deceived him… but it was sadly not the case.

On the beautiful wallpaper he chose to decorate the hall with, there were huge blue ink markings, blue, black and red. There were patches of ink spilled on the floor as well, with footsteps of two different baby shoe prints. He followed the footsteps carefully, without a single word, and found out that the two girls were now in the kitchen, causing more trouble. Or, precisely, it was only Cadence making mischief. Mahtab was standing in the middle of the kitchen, ordering Cadence around.

\- Get the cookies! The chocolate ones!

\- What is going on here, Mahtab?- Erik asked angrily, placing his hand on his hip.

\- We want to eat cookies. – Mahtab explained.

\- Cadence, come down. – Erik ordered. The doll instantly obeyed. Only then Erik could see Cadence was covered in ink from head to foot. Mahtab was immaculate, save for the ink on her shoes she stepped in.

\- Papa, we are just playing.

\- Why did you ruin the wall outside?

\- I did not. – She shook her head. – It was Cadence. – She pointed at her friend.

\- God… Mahtab, Cadence isn't a real thing, she does what you tell her to do!

\- I told her to draw. – She said with innocent look on her face. – She is bad, punish her.

\- Mahtab, you don't understand me. – Erik knelt down and looked at the child strictly. – You KNOW that you tell her to do bad things, don't you?

\- No bad things. I want her to draw.

Erik was wondering if the doll just malfunctioned so he chose not to punish Mahtab for this action right now as he did not exactly know what has happened. He was just cleaning up after the child and tried to salvage the wallpaper with rather less than more success. He was irritated to see that he had to change the wallpaper in the hall.

\- I told you that it was going to be dangerous. – Mohammed scolded him as he returned and collapsed in his chair.

\- Everything malfunctions sometimes. – He shrugged.

\- Erik, it is not about that! – Christine tried to argue, but Erik really wasn't in the mood for child raising courses. He just silenced her with a hand gesture.

Erik had to face that it was sadly not the last malfunction of the doll – if it was a malfunction at all. Various mischiefs were happening around the house – he found chocolate spots on his sheet music, on the carpet or the cushions, things that Mahtab should not have touched were missing and after reappearing in different places. Christine was searching for her knitting needles frantically in the house and was terrified to find out that Mahtab was using them as xylophone sticks on her toy.

\- Never ever take these again, Mahtab! – She scolded her worriedly. – You could have stuck your eyes out!

\- It wasn't me, it was Cadence. She brought them.

Christine was starting to get fed up with Cadence. Not enough "she' was creepy, but now she causes trouble after trouble. When she complained about it to Erik, he did not seem to be too much cooperative about the subject- she could have expected his reaction to be something similar as she was bothering him while composing. The usual comment she got from him in these situations was just an "Ahem, good, Christine, good…" –then he did not even pay any more attention to her and turned back to write his damned sonata. Christine was very fond of music herself as well, but Erik was too much into composing if he got inspired and it sometimes annoyed Christine. She wouldn't have dared to leave the child alone with Erik for the evening and night, as she knew well that Erik was blind and deaf when he was working, not even noticing if his study was suddenly in flames around him- And well, that could very easily happen with Mahtab and Cadence being left alone for the night! How could he save Mahtab from danger like this? Now she understood what Erik meant when he said he only lived of music when he was working.

As she had to go to the Opera, she decided she will do the only possible solution she can choose – take Mahtab with her to the Opera that night. She thought she was already old enough to see a rehearsal and a performance, and what a better way to make a child get to like music even more than she already does than showing her a night at the Opera?

\- Do you want to accompany Mama to the Opera, sweetheart? – She asked Mahtab who was sitting on the floor in her room, playing with that wretched doll- sister of hers.

\- Music? – Her eyes shone up curiously and joyfully.

\- Yes, dear, you can watch Mama sing!

Thankfully, Mahtab jumped up from the floor without hesitation or any arguing with her Mom, and was even willing to leave that creepy twin behind. Christine, learning from her old mistake, put a veil on Mahtab's face again and dressed her in one of her finest clothes. She always hoped Mahtab is going to wear that dress for the Opera. While leaving, Christine said hello to Erik and briefly told her that the child was with her. Erik did not even lift his head from his sheet music and only gave an irritated "Ahem!" as a reply, so Christine just stuck out her tongue in his direction then left, holding Mahtab's tiny bony hand. Let him work on his Magnum Opus in peace!

The rehearsal went awesomely well. Mahtab, thankfully, did not make trouble. She was acting way more mature than her age. She was placed in an empty chair in the first row. Christine was marvelous as Olympia, and the tiny girl looked at her with eyes wide-open. She knew her Mama had a beautiful voice, but at home it did not sound half as good as it did here with full orchestral accompaniment.

Christine was a bit worried where Mahtab will be left while the whole performance as there will be no empty place and she would most likely be constantly in her heels, but to her biggest relief, she saw the Persian arriving to the Opera. That man really lived at this place, even after he did not need to chase Erik through the cellars. He loved music and he would not miss a chance to see something. Mohammed was happy to run into Christine and her tiny girl there, he kissed Christine's hand and instantly offered his help with the child. That is what Christine admired in this man- he would always care for others instead of himself and was willing to help, without even asking.

\- Let me take my dear little Mahtab with me for her first night at the Opera, dear Christine. Come now, Mahtab dear, the Opera is starting shortly.

\- And they will sing all the time?

\- Yes dear, all night of singing. – The Persian smiled, lifting up Mahtab from the ground and walked her to his usual box.

He sat down placing the girl on his lap, as from a chair she wasn't tall enough to see anything. She was looking around for a time, but as the Overture started playing she asked on her full volume:

\- When is Mama singing again?

\- Sssssh! – The Persian placed on of his fingers on Mahtab1s lips but shuddered at the sensation of the child1s teeth on the missing half of her lips. Even through the veil he could feel them. – You should not talk during the Opera, Mahtab.

\- Why? – She asked, a bit softer, but still audibly.

\- Because you are bothering the others. They came to listen to music, you know. – The Daroga whispered.

Mahtab silenced herself for some minutes, but the Daroga thought about he shouldn't have visited the Opera that night- Mahtab was constantly asking him questions about everything. She wanted to know the name of every instrument, she did not understand the plot (how could she…) and she asked many things about music. Why she sings so high? Why they aren't singing now? Why are they singing at the same time? Mohammed- Ismael was rubbing his forehead from time to time, partly trying to answer Mahtab's numerous questions and partly trying to silence her. She is starting to give him headaches- just like her father!

Erik suddenly heard footsteps behind his back. He tried not to acknowledge the child's presence in the room, as Mahtab would leave him alone if he did not pay attention to her for a time. The strange thing was the child did not even want to get his attention this time, it was just wandering up and down in the study. Erik shrugged and did not say a word to her. He was busy, why people can't understand it? Suddenly he heard a strange noise. The child walked into the wall and fell in her back, but it gave such a strange sound…

Only then he realized it wasn't Mahtab.

\- Cadence! – He moaned. – Go out of the room and play with Mahtab.

\- Command unconsummated. – The thing replied and ran into the wall again.

\- Play with Mahtab! – He repeated louder as he thought the little bunch of gears did not "hear" him properly.

\- Command unconsummated. – It replied again, still showing an error.

Erik stood up slowly. He knew that the machine says this only if it can't do what they ordered to it. And WHY can't it play with Mahtab? He opened the study's door and looked outside. Everything was dark. The nursery as well. He ran out of his study, and nervously examined every square metre of the house, calling for both Mahtab and Christine… but none of them did reply, nor could they be found anywhere. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaved up and down from getting more and more upset. Where on Earth did they disappear? The Mahtab- imitator was following him but he wasn't in the mood for that. He grabbed the doll and switched it off then locked it in a closet, He ran out of the house, searching in the garden as well, but everyone was gone… and then the reality just hit him like a thunder… at the goddamned Opera they were! Christine is performing.

Getting weak in the knees and sick in the stomach from being worried and angry at the same time, he dragged himself to the bench and collapsed on it, wheezing and squeezing his shaking hand on his chest. He was weak and felt sick, unable to move for a time. Fresh air in the garden slowly made him feel a bit better and he staggered back in the house to lay down- he did not feel strong enough to go to the Opera to get Mahtab as he wanted to do so earlier.

When he opened his yellow cat-like eyes again, he saw Christine's face in front of him as she leaned closer.

\- Oh Erik! Are you feeling better?

\- How do you know I was sick? - He responded mechanically. It was always a warning sign of a later fight to come.

\- You looked rather pale and you usually don't sleep here in the drawing room.

\- It was the closest spot I could find at that time. – He explained.

\- Are you all right…?

\- Sure. Why would I NOT be all right? – This was again his sarcastic tone that indicated his anger to return again. – Just because you take the child away…? So I can worry about you two?

\- I told you where we are. – Christine retorted. – Only that you did not pay attention to me when I told you, because you were composing.

\- Why did you take my child to the Opera?

\- Our child is in love with the Opera now, and I am going to take her there regularly.

\- She is 3 years old! She is too young for it yet, Christine!

\- Why? Didn't you tell me we should show her music from a very young age?

\- Not this young age, Christine! She can't sit still for hours yet! Her attention span is like a squirrel's, but it is normal with a 3 year- old. She should be, I think, at least 7, and we should certainly start with Magic Flute. Until that, I am training her at home.

\- No. I took her with me tonight and she loved it.

\- Isn't it that I had to retire to watch her? The Opera starts way later than her bedtime.

\- If you actually DID watch her, I shouldn't have taken her, to begin with.

\- Oh, so now Erik is careless.

\- You can be when your music is at first priority.

\- Tell me WHO caused injuries for Mahtab among the two of us?

\- Oh, Erik, don't start it again…!

\- I am not starting it, you did start it. But anyway, as you wish, my love, you do as you please. Erik is too tired for an argument and it will be as you want it to be, so what's the point? I am going to bed. Good night, and do what you want.

Erik left the room, still staggering a bit, as he was feeling dizzy. Christine was stubborn – she already decided that Mahtab should see how a theater works, and she should get used to the Opera house and music the youngest possible. But she already knew how to make Erik feel better.

Her apology was accepted- and they found peace in each other's arms – a bit more intimate than they would imagine earlier.

One day Christine turned even happier than before as she finally got what she wanted. It was an afternoon of late November and Erik, Christine and the Persian were sitting at the drawing room, while they assumed Mahtab to be in her room, playing. Suddenly Erik heard a strange noise. It was a special kind of rattling as if someone tried to light a match on the side of the matchbox…

\- Mahtab! – He gasped and jumped up from his chair, storming out to the kitchen.

He was just in time to reach the kitchen to see Mahtab holding a single burning match in her left hand and staring at it. He was so worked up that he could not help himself but hit a few on the child's hand after he tore the match out of it and blew it out to stop the burning.

\- Never ever you should touch matches anymore, Mahtab! Do you hear me? Never!

\- You touch it too!

\- That's something else, Mahtab, I can handle them! Never touch it again!

\- It wasn't me. – She admitted in a lamentable tone as she got scared of her Papa's sudden rage. – It was Cadence…

\- Cadence! - Erik yelled, shaking uncontrollably. – ALWAYS Cadence? – He released Mahtab as he was concerned that he might hurt her badly in a sudden outrage. His eyes met the automaton standing in the corner of the kitchen, still holding the matchbox in its hands.

Erik knew well now what Mahtab is using Cadence for- to get and reach things she can't touch on her own. The matches were placed on a shelf high above the stove for the exact reason that Mahtab should not be able to reach it. But she outsmarted them- sending Cadence up there to catch it for her. Now he knew he made a huge mistake when giving Mahtab a robot to play with… and knew what he had to do to save the situation. He carried Cadence under his arm to his study and locked himself inside for an hour. Mahtab was comforted by Christine and the Persian in the drawing room, and after put to sleep for the afternoon nap.

Erik reappeared, looking sad and emotionally tired.

\- Why do you always have to be right? – He asked, looking at the Daroga.

\- I don't know. – He replied softly. He did not want to hurt Erik, as he knew that Erik feels guilty enough already. – But I understand your motivation behind the doll.

\- It is no more. – He sighed. – I dissembled it.

\- You did the right thing. – He heard Christine's voice behind his back.

\- I know. – He nodded.

It wasn't such a hard thing to explain the disappearance of Cadence to Mahtab as Christine imagined it to be. Erik was so good at explaining things to her, and to her surprise he did not say it was because the incident with the matches.

\- You know, my dear, Cadence went back to her parents.

\- Really? – Mahtab asked with a sad expression.

\- Really, dear, her parents missed her already. Mama and Papa would miss you too if you were a guest at your friend's house for so long time.

\- Will she come back?

\- I am not sure… maybe if her Mama and Papa lets her come here again.

\- Why didn't she say bye-bye to Mahtab?

\- Because she did not want to make you sad. But Papa will make you feel better about it.

\- How?

\- Here is another little friend for you. – Erik smiled, showing her a small ragdoll. Mahtab easily could hug it. – You can name it as you want to.

\- Olympia. -She nodded without hesitation.

\- As you wish. – Erik laughed.

\- Can Olympia speak?

\- Oh, but of course she can! – Erik exclaimed happily. – She can also sing.

\- Sing! – She looked at the doll hopefully.

The little doll started singing on a high male soprano voice, Christine and Mohammed instantly recognized Erik's changed voice in it and they just started laughing at the old trick – master, using his ventriloquism to entertain his daughter.

Olympia was a great replacement for Cadence- and they could easily agree it was way less dangerous.

Erik did not even try to argue with Christine about the Opera any more. He was actually happy for it as it meant he can accompany them as well, and he was sure Mahtab will shut her little malformed face if he sits with her in Box 5. So, the next time there were three people sitting at box 5: Erik with Mahtab on his lap and the Daroga. This time the Opera played Othello.

\- Are you sure it is the right play for a child? – The Persian turned to Erik before the Overture started.

\- As her mother, she will tell you how good is it for her. I am going to cover her eyes at bad parts.

\- Papa, why is that man so dark? – Mahtab dragged Erik's frock coat when noticing Othello on the stage.

\- Shhh! – He whispered. – I told you I am not going to take you here ever again if you talk.

To their surprise, the child really did not talk any more during the night, but as the opera ended she started to bomb Erik with her endless questions. Erik was busy answering them, so they walked slowly to the Grand Staircase and they often stopped.

Christine was happy as the opera was a great success that night, and she could not wait for their pleasant night together at home with her Erik. She changed to her clothes and walked out of her dressing room when she suddenly heard a male voice behind her back in the hallway:

\- Christine…! Congratulations… you were awesome tonight.

She nearly cried out in surprise and horror as she recognized the voice. It was tired and weak, and somewhat deeper than she remembered, but it definitely was him. She turned around slowly to see if she was just hallucinating, but to her shock, she saw him right in front of her.

\- Raoul?

This was the only word she could whisper before passing out.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter XV.

When she opened her eyes she was placed on a couch under a window. She was still at the Opera and the face that looked at her was, without doubt, his. He knelt beside the sofa, examining Christine with worry and to the sight of her opened eyes, he looked a lot more relieved. It was indeed Raoul de Chagny- but instead of the young and almost girlish features, it was the face of a grown – up man. He still had his small mustache, but there were some gray in his blonde hair and his clear blue eyes reflected a special melancholy. He had wrinkles on his forehead. To be honest, he started to look very much like his brother, Philippe. He was still very handsome, only looked way more mature. It was strange to see what a few years difference meant to him – he was actually the same age as Christine – right now, 28, even though, he looked at least 40.

\- I am sorry I scared you, Christine. – He said on a soft and concerned tone. – I only wanted to congratulate you as your acting touched my heart- just as it did years ago.

He gave a little sad smile.

Christine didn't exactly know what to reply or how to react to Raoul's words. She found it a better idea if she sits up on that couch, as people, especially Erik, might misunderstand the situation they were in – and God save everyone from Erik's jealousy fits and tantrums! Raoul, surprisingly, understood the intentions behind Christine's reaction, so he stood up as well, but did not leave.

\- Are you feeling better? – He inquired.

\- Yes, I do… Raoul. – She hesitated a bit before calling M. de Chagny as "Raoul", but in the end, she chose to stay with the given name, as they never called each other by any other names than "Raoul" and "Christine".

\- That is good to hear. I was worried I scared you too much. To tell the truth I did not dream to find you here again. May I ask… what has happened to you in these past years?

\- Well, I am with a husband and a child. And just this year I started singing again. – She admitted softly.

\- Did you finally get married?

\- Yes. – She nodded.

\- And… do you have a son or a daughter?

\- A daughter.

\- She must be as beautiful as you are. – He tried to compliment her, but to his surprise, Christine did not accept it. She turned her head away, for a second, and it looked like she wiped her eyes with her glove.

\- Christine… - Raoul sat down next to her on the couch to give her some comfort as he thought she was still under the influence of their nasty fight so many years ago. – I am sorry for the way I acted that night. I know I had hurt your feelings. I was a foolish young man… madly in love with you, and I didn't realize that I hurt the only person I loved the most.

\- Raoul, please…

\- Are you able to forgive my rudeness?

\- Yes. – She nodded. – I forgave and forgot it many years ago. – She admitted.

Suddenly, the Persian arrived near them, and as he saw young de Chagny, he nearly fainted as well. He did not know anything of the young man since Erik told him about the happenings after they escaped from the Torture Chamber. He thought him dead, or at least, that he moved to a very far end of the world. He hurried to them, and exclaimed in a mixture of astonishment and happiness:

\- Monsieur Chagny! What a surprise!

\- Oh! – Raoul turned to the Daroga and stood up, way slower than his age should indicate it. – My good old friend! I will never forget the favor you once did me. – He smiled at him.

The Daroga offered his right for a handshake, but Raoul lowered his head in embarrassment. Only then both Christine and the Daroga noticed the strange way he held his right arm. He hid his hand either behind his back, or the way Napoleon Bonaparte used to do it on the paintings – under his cloak.

\- I am sorry, Monsieur. – He said quietly. – I can't accept or offer handshakes any more.

He slowly showed his right hand to both of them. On his right hand, there were 3 fingers missing. He only had a thumb and a pinkie left on it. They stared at him for some seconds, speechless, when a familiar bass-baritone male voice interrupted the silence.

\- Are they frozen off? – They all turned to see Erik standing behind them, holding a half- asleep Mahtab in his left arm.

\- I recognize that voice… - Raoul said softly, and turned to face the quite normal looking man with a child, but the obvious fake mask couldn't deceive his ears. It was indeed Erik, the monster. - You? – Raoul gasped. – You are supposed to be…

\- Dead? – He retorted. – So are you, Monsieur. I, thankfully haven't heard of you in a while.

\- How come… you are still alive, monster?

\- And how come you turned out as a lobster? – Erik chuckled.

\- ERIK! – Christine exclaimed in dismay.

\- Yes, my dear? – He asked sarcastically, on a flirty and too sweet to be honest coo, clearly not wanting to take a hint.

\- Yes, they are frozen off! – Raoul pointed at Erik with his remaining thumb.

\- Did you… travel to the Pole, Raoul? – Christine asked with compassion.

\- I did. – He nodded. – Without you… I thought it was the only way to spend my life… as my brother wanted me to...

\- How very sad… - Erik shook his head and he gave a faked lamentable tone to his voice to sound even more sarcastic. – If you are finished with the second act of the Opera after the Opera, my dear, would you mind joining your Erik outside? I am afraid Mahtab should be in bed by now. – He stretched out his right hand, very much visibly moving each and every finger of his, then turned away and left. So did the Daroga, after excusing himself shortly.

\- Is that monster… you HUSBAND? – Raoul gasped as Erik was out of hearing range. – Did you marry him?

\- Raoul, please… we can't change the past… and nor can we change the present. Yes, Erik is my husband, the father of my only child. And I love him.

\- Why did you marry him, Christine? – Raoul asked a bit calmer.

\- Because I wanted to.

\- No, you did not. – He shook his head. – You wanted me to rescue you from him, you wanted to flee away. We were about to move to Sweden…

\- I know. – She lowered her head. – Raoul, please, don't bother the past. I am glad that I saw you again, but I am Erik's wife. And I have to go now.

\- Will I see you again… ever? Am I allowed to congratulate you?

\- I think it would be the best if we just… met the least possible. I have no hard feelings for you in my heart, my friend. But you know how we said good bye to each other, and that we cannot be lovers any more. Nothing but friends, Raoul. Do you promise me?

\- I do, but please promise we won't part forever.

The woman nodded shortly and wiped out two drops of tears from her eyes and left for the main entrance to join Erik and her daughter outside to go home. She was afraid in advance of the night she has to spend with Erik, after he met Raoul and is sure in a bad mood. Maybe she should leave him alone to compose or play his anger and jealousy out as he usually does.

The Daroga grabbed Erik's arm when they stood outside, waiting for Christine, and the ex- Opera Ghost wanted to gesture to a cab.

\- Erik, that was uncalled for! Aren't you ashamed of yourself?

\- What exactly is Erik supposed to be ashamed of?

\- I tell you! After nearly killing that boy, you separate him from his lover and you even make fun of him now!

\- It serves him right, the little pest. At least Erik has all his fingers still. He, the miserable creature should not take any piano lessons though.

\- You can be such a disgusting monster still!

\- Did you honestly think that Erik will be nice to his arch enemy?

\- Erik, what is the point anymore? Christine is your wife, there is no need to treat Monsieur Chagny this way.

\- They were flirting.

\- Flirting? Erik, they barely talked a few sentences.

\- Christine is Erik's. And he won't let that handsome sailor take her from him again.

\- With this behavior, you are actually working on it, Erik.

\- No, because Christine knows well that she is now Erik's. Forever. Our love has been sealed both in front of God and Man. And we have something that links us together forever. – He pointed at Mahtab, who laid her head against his shoulder, sleeping heavily.

\- I would like to go home on foot rather than being in the same cab with you tonight, you… Ei-riek.

\- I already taught you to pronounce Erik's name properly, Persian BOOBY! – He showed his friend an unacceptable hand gesture for pronouncing his name that idiotic way again, then the Daroga left with a loud groan.

\- Pitiful creature, jealous stubborn ass. – He murmured, half audibly, but was surprised to hear a soft whisper in his right ear.

\- Great Persian booby.

When Christine showed up next to Erik and a cab also stopped, Erik opened the cab door for Christine, and gestured her to get in. He acted like a gentleman. Christine was surprised as she expected Erik either to burst out in a jealousy fit or say nothing at all, trying to blackmail her with silence, as he did before, but nothing similar has happened. Erik politely asked her about how she was and how her voice was feeling. They were chatting through the way home and Erik did not seem to be angry or jealous at all.

When they arrived home and Erik took Mahtab to bed, he instantly joined Christine with a bottle of Tokay wine and two glasses in the drawing room.

\- Here is your little husband. – He placed one of the glasses in front of Christine and poured her a glassful of the great, fiery yet sweetly romantic liquid. She smiled and took a small sip of it while Erik took a seat next to her on the sofa.

\- You are in a good mood. – She remarked carefully, examining Erik's facial expression. Erik did not seem to be irritated and simply answered he was, as he had a good evening, listening to his little wife singing beautifully, and that is all he wants or needs in life.

\- Was Mahtab asking a ton of questions?

\- Not during the performance, thank God. – He laughed shortly. – She was a good girl, to Erik's surprise. But after the opera ended he could not even answer all of her questions yet when she fell asleep in his arms.

\- She wants to know everything. – Christine smiled.

\- And talks a lot, just like her mother.

\- You can talk much as well, if you want to! – Christine teasingly poked her husband's arm, to make Erik grin.

\- Erik can't deny it, but you were the one who made him get back to talking. He rarely talked to anyone before he met you. You make Erik's life complete. He is only a living breathing man since he saw his Christine for the first time. Until that he was only a living dead, sleeping in a coffin, in his grave, waiting for physical death save him from his suffering. But now I am happy I did not die, as you are here with me. I love you, Christine.

\- I love you too, Erik. – She smiled, surprised of this honest and sudden confession of love Erik made.

She hugged Erik and lay her head on his shoulder. Erik cuddled her as well and they sat like that for a long time, enjoying each other's company. Christine was so surprised about Erik's behavior, the lack of rage and accusation, but deep down in her heart, she was thankful and happy about it. Even stranger it was, as Erik wasn't that much of a cuddly man, to begin with. He appreciated kisses, especially on his forehead, and he loved if she caressed or massaged his shoulder, back, or he liked holding hands, but he wasn't too fond of cuddling on the sofa for hours, as he wasn't used to it, and he always felt a special uncomfortable feeling while it lasted, and to tell the truth, it made him lose precious time from doing something way more productive. Christine sometimes jokingly scolded him for "not letting her love him properly", and at that very moment, he wanted to show his Christine he was there to be loved on – forever.

They might have fallen asleep in each other's arms as when Christine opened her eyes she was still hugged by her husband, and they were sitting on the sofa. Erik completely lay back, placing his skull- head against the back of the divan, and Christine's head was resting on Erik's chest. She could hear his measured breathing, and heartbeat, and it made her so relaxed. She wanted to drift away again, in this peaceful union, but she suddenly had a better idea and slowly and unnoticed, slipped out of Erik's embrace.

She wanted to prepare breakfast for her husband in return of him being so kind and understanding to her contrary the fact that even mentioning the name of Raoul de Chagny sent him into a jealousy fit other times, and now that he saw Raoul, he did not even remark it in their little nest of family love.

As she was preparing to make toast and sunny-side up in the kitchen, she suddenly realized she HATED eggs. How can it be? She likes eggs very much, and sunny-side up was one of her favorite. But now, just the whole texture of the eggs seemed to be so very disgusting. She frowned and had to look away. They actually look like snot and she never thought of that before. Why is she getting thoughts like that, and why is she starting to feel dizzy and nauseous suddenly? She tried to take some deep breaths, but they did not help. She leaned against the counter to wait for his sickness to fade before she could continue cooking, but she eventually had to rush to the bathroom to vomit, nearly running into Erik who just woke up and walked out of the salon.

\- Goodness… Christine! – He gasped in shock, noticing his wife's greenish complexion as she emerged from the bathroom.

\- It is all right Erik. – She gave a faint smile as blood started getting back into her cheeks.

\- Are you ill?

\- I don't think so. – She shrugged. – Don't worry about it, Erik, dear. I was just about to make breakfast…

\- No – no- no. – He stopped Christine mid- step and gently made her sit down to a chair. – Christine should just rest until she feels better and Erik will make breakfast if Christine is hungry at all.

\- Well… yes, I am, I just…

\- Don't worry my dear, Erik is taking care of everything and makes sure that Doctor Bonsanté is checking on your well- being.

\- No, Erik, I really am feeling better, and I don't think I need a doctor just because I vomited once.

\- Erik doesn't like if his wife is sick, and each and every stomach problem has its case, they just don't appear for no reason. Please let Erik be sure you are all right and healthy. Will you?

\- Well, if it makes you calm, then I let you fetch the doctor for me Erik, but only tomorrow as I will have to leave for the opera early today, we are rehearsing Othello.

\- I agree but promise you will let Erik know if it gets worse by then and that you are not leaving for rehearsal if you feel worse.

\- I promise. – She agreed.

Christine seemed to be fine when she left for the Opera, but the next morning found her in a bad shape again. She had heartburn and nausea, and she felt very weak and sleepy. Erik was hardly able to wake her up and she only moaned:

\- Just five more minutes, Erik, please… - then falling asleep again.

Erik got terrified that Christine was very ill, but he tried not to show it to Mahtab as he did not want to scare the girl. He decided to take Mahtab to the Persian's apartment and ask him to babysit her for the time he fetches the doctor for Christine.

\- Papa, what is a lobster? – Mahtab asked with a sudden interest as they were walking on the streets.

\- It is an animal, a type of sea creature, I will show a picture of it to you after we arrive home.

\- Why did you call the man with the strange hand that?

\- Because he has a hand that looks like a lobster's claw. But you shall not call him that if we see him again.

\- Why?

\- Because you should act more polite than Papa does.

\- And what is a Booby?

\- Mahtab, Papa is going to wash your little mouth out with soap if you talk like this.

\- But you told Tonton Mohammed that he was a booby.

\- I did because I was angry with him.

\- And if I am angry with someone I have to call them a booby? – She asked with an innocent look on her face.

\- No. You should never call someone a booby, the end.

\- And why Mama calls you Erik?

\- You know it is my name, that's why.

\- But your name is Papa.

\- No, you call me Papa, as I am your father, but my name is Erik. Just as yours is Mahtab. Tonton Mohammed calls me Erik as well, didn't you notice it yet?

\- Papa, is Tonton Mohammed a relative of Othello?

\- No.

\- But they are both dark.

\- Mahtab, when you were a baby, I prayed to the Lord that you will learn to talk so I can understand what you want of me. But since you learned to talk, I sometimes pray for five minutes of silence. – Erik sighed, lifting up the girl as she started walking slower as she was getting tired.

\- Why? – She asked.

\- It doesn't matter, Mahtab, Papa is just joking. – He smiled and gently kissed Mahtab's forehead that was out of the veil that covered her face. She laughed and patted Erik's shoulder.

Even though Erik was worried about Christine's health, he was comforted by his daughter and this time he was happy about the girl's chit-chat as it did not let him drift into his worry and dark thoughts. He was not alone in trouble, even if his companion was a talkative 3 year- old. He also learned an important lesson about Mahtab's questions earlier – he has to watch his mouth in front of her as she tends to learn everything by first hearing, and will most likely use the new words in the most awkward situations. She can even hear him while she is asleep. Better not to teach her the repertoire of the profanities he knows…

As they reached the Daroga's front door, Erik pressed the doorbell and whispered to Mahtab

\- Be a good girl and say hello politely, as I taught you.

As the servant opened the door and Mahtab's different colored eyes met Darius, she exclaimed happily:

\- Hello, Monsieur Booby, where is Tonton Mohammed?

Darius sent a glare of displeasure towards the "strange masked man" as he always called Erik to the Daroga, and guided them to the hall to sit while he is informing the Daroga about their visit.

\- What did Papa just ask of you, Mahtab? – Erik scolded the girl who looked up at him with confused eyes.

\- To say hello?

\- Yes, and to be polite and never to call anyone by that word again. If I hear it again, I swear I will spank you for it.

\- What you do?

\- Spank! You will understand when you get your first one, I guarantee that.

The Daroga stepped to the hall to see Erik threateningly shaking his index finger at Mahtab. He did not remark it, as he thought he was no one to question Erik's way of disciplining the child, unless it contained physical harm, but he never hit Mahtab in front of him yet.

\- Hello, Erik. – He said, a bit of coldly, to remind him that his behavior at the Opera wasn't yet forgiven.

\- Hello, Mohammed. – He rose from the chair, placing Mahtab on the floor and gently pushing her shoulder. – Did you say hello yet?

\- Hello Tonton! – She exclaimed cheerfully and took a few steps closer to the Persian. He bent down to her to greet the minion, and gently patted her head then turned to Erik.

\- Come in.

\- I am sorry, I wouldn't want to lose much time, I am in hurry. – He sputtered nervously. – I would just ask you to keep an eye at Mahtab until I return to pick her up… will you please?

\- What is wrong? – He asked with concern as he noticed Erik's state of mind.

\- Christine isn't feeling well, and I am scared… Daroga… that it is something serious.

\- Oh, Allah. – He lifted a hand in front of his lips. – Don't worry about Mahtab, Erik, we will be fine here until you are back. And please tell me if I can help.

\- Thank you, Daroga… and… thank you for helping me… regardless of what I said… - He lowered his head in shame.

\- Don't worry about it Erik. You are forgiven. – He smiled and softly, that only Erik was able to hear it, he added: - You great booby.

Erik laughed shyly, then quickly left, forgetting about even to kiss Mahtab and say bye-bye to her. He was too nervous to think at that time, and just ran to the doctor's office before it was too late.

He was pacing back and forth in the hall, carefully listening to every little noise Christine might give during the doctor's visit. Sometimes he stopped, swinging from tip toes to heels, and when he finally got tired of that, he tried to entertain himself with various other types of stimming and fidgeting. There was silence. He did not know if it was a good or a bad sign, Christine looked so pale when he was finally able to return with the doctor.

After some time that seemed like an eternity to Erik, the bedroom door finally opened, and Doctor Bonsanté emerged from the room with his bag.

\- Is it very serious? – Erik ran to him nervously biting his lips.

\- Well, your wife should take good care of herself, and rest a lot.

\- I will make sure she does.

\- She will have rough days, and will need your help.

\- I am here to make her feel better…

\- I know.

\- How long it is going to take?

\- Just a few weeks, but if there are complications, she might need your assistance longer. Don't worry Erik, everything is as it should be, and as God and nature wants it to be.

Erik calmed down a bit, shook the doctor's hand and accompanied him to the front door, then rushed to the bedroom to see how Christine was.

\- My dear. – He sighed in relief when he saw Christine sitting in bed, smiling widely.

\- Oh, Erik! Only five months! – She giggled.

\- Five months… of what? – He asked, alarmed a lot.

\- Only five months left. – Christine stated, not knowing why Erik is turning pale.

\- Five….? Oh, Christine… my sweet, sweet girl… Is it REALLY that serious…?

\- What? – She laughed. – Do you think I am going to die?

\- No? – He lifted his head, half relieved.

\- Of course, not. I am going to give birth.

\- WHAT? – Erik whimpered on a high – pitched tone, falling to his knees and dragging himself to the bed on his knees.

\- We are expecting, Erik. – She patted the man's shoulders who started sobbing in the sheets.

\- Erik is so… so… sorry! – His muffled voice gave out so much pain in the heart that Christine just understood Erik wasn't that happy about the news as she was.

\- Sorry? Erik, don't be! I am happy about it!

\- Are you? – He lifted his head, his pale, and skull – like face was soaked in tears.

\- I am. – She reassured.

\- What if… - Erik did not dare, and could not continue the question, but Christine knew what he wanted to ask.

\- I will love it just as I do Mahtab. Erik, everything is going to be fine. Don't worry. Please, be happy for us.

\- I… I am. – He lay his head on Christine's lap as she stroke his hair.

Not much time after the Daroga taught some Persian folk songs to Mahtab and the small girl cheerfully clapped in front of him on the rug, and the Daroga offered her some chocolate to eat, Darius tucked his head in the half- open door and announced Monsieur Spöke.

\- Guide him in. – The Daroga said, and rose, to be prepared for a bad news about Christine's health, and silenced Mahtab for a few minutes.

She obeyingly sat down in the corner with Olympia, but as her Papa slowly walked in the room and collapsed in an armchair, she couldn't help but run to greet Papa and climb up on his lap.

\- Papa, Papa, I missed you! – She hugged Erik's neck but he was clearly not in the mood for that, only passively let his daughter love on him.

\- Give me something to drink, Daroga. – He moaned.

\- Would you like a glass of wine? – Mohammed asked with compassion.

\- No, something stronger.

\- As you wish… absinthe?

\- It doesn't matter unless it knocks me out.

\- There must be a problem. – He poured and handed Erik a glass of the green liquor and watched with astonishment as he drinks that in one gulp. - Erik, for Allah's beard… what has happened…?

\- I am going to be a father… in five months, Daroga.

The Persian raised his eyes and fixed them on the ceiling, as he was waiting for a sign of Allah to calm him, then looked back at the emotionally exhausted ex- Phantom, being constantly nagged by his hyperactive daughter, and only those words left his lips:

\- Allah above! Again…?

Erik only gave a faint nod to the question, then his head knocked back to hit against the back – rest of the armchair and his eyes closed with a last spark of yellow.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter XVI.

Erik lifted his head to a baby's cry. He stroke his throbbing forehead and slowly stood up from his chair to see what on Earth the baby's problem was. "Christine, please go and silence that thing…" – he sighed, and slowly staggered outside the room as he heard no answer from his wife. As he opened the small and dark nursery's door, he heard the unpleasant whining way louder, and he was even suspicious it is not only one baby. He slowly approached the cradle and peeked in. The sheets covered the thing's head, and the crying echoed in the whole room, sounding like it came from all directions at once. A strange, choking atmosphere sat on the whole room and he wanted to get out as soon as possible. He will just check on the little pest and hurry away, not having to see it again for a day.

\- You learned my ventriloquism already, you wretched thing? – He shuddered. The sheets in the cradle were soaked in various bodily fluids of the kid. – Oh how I hate the process of cleaning you up. – He frowned, then gently lifted the cover with only two fingers and tossed it away. But in the next moment he had a way bigger problem than the filthy surroundings…

It looked at him with its twisted eyes, it looked worse than Mahtab, worse than him, worse than anyone he ever could imagine. Its greenish yellow skin was covered with open wounds, that either bled or looked hideous, and it had no hair, no nose, and no ears at all. As it opened its mouth he noticed it had teeth like a snake. It had reddish eyes that got fixed at him with hatred. It slowly rose to its feet, walking towards him, while Erik tried to back away. No matter how much he walked backwards, he felt the room was getting larger and larger with every step. The thing was smaller than him, yet it was so scary and it looked so accusingly at him that he could feel nothing but fear.

\- Look at me! – It yelled on a high – pitched voice, pointing at him with a claw- like index finger. – Look what you've done!

\- Erik didn't want to… - He whimpered. – He did not mean…

\- Look at me… PAPA! – it slammed its fist towards him, as it wanted to squish him like a spider, but only caused him to lose his balance and fall to the ground, helplessly.

\- Don't hurt me… please… I am sorry… I am sorry… I am sorry! – He cried out in horror and covered his head with his arms for protection. He felt the claws digging into his shoulder and he let out a cry of horror and pain, but suddenly he heard his name being called:

\- Erik… Erik… Erik!

He gasped and opened his eyes to see the Daroga kneeling on the ground next to him, comfortingly patting his shoulder. He tossed the Persian away in his sudden realization and shame of just having a bad dream. He lay on the floor in the Daroga's living room, next to the chair in which he fell asleep.

\- What the Hell…? Daroga?

\- Are you feeling better? – The Persian asked.

\- I think so. – He nodded carefully. – Please tell me only Mahtab is here with me.

\- Yes, she is in the other room, I told her not to bother you while you sleep a little.

\- Sleep…? Oh, thank Goodness. – He wiped his forehead with his sleeve. Only now he got 100 percent sure that the creature he saw only existed in his imagination… yet.

\- You look like you've seen a ghost.

\- It was much worse than a ghost, believe me. – He shuddered again, at the mere thought of his nightmare.

He will have to get used to the thought of another child. These five months are going to be like an eternity as he already knew what they will be about – fear, nightmares, self – loathing and stomach pain.

\- Daroga… may Erik ask you a favor? – He grabbed the Persian's wrist, and pulled him closer.

\- Yes, Erik, anything. – The Persian nodded.

\- When the time comes… please… please be there with Erik… he doesn't want to stay all alone for hours… in the drawing room…

\- I will. – He nodded and put his still free hand on Erik's shoulder. – Don't worry Erik, please try to calm down a bit.

\- Erik needs another drink. – He stated exhaustedly.

\- All right, I will give you another round of absinthe if it is good with you.

\- Fine. – He nodded and climbed back in the armchair. He stretched his long legs out and tried to think of good things to settle his nerves a bit.

The Daroga arrived back soon with a glass of absinthe again and handed it to Erik.

\- Here… But please don't drink it in one gulp again, Erik, this is a very strong alcohol, and I don't think you have eaten anything at all, and you will get drunk in no time.

\- Drunk? Who…? Erik…? – he laughed out almost hysterically. – Erik NEVER gets drunk, Daroga! You don't know how much I can handle… I can drink two bottles of wine without ANY effect on me.

\- Wine is wine, it's not that strong…

\- Nonsense. – Erik nodded gracefully then emptied the glass at once again.

The Persian knew that there will be a huge problem of it, but Erik was too stubborn and he knew that there was no use to argue with him, especially not in this situation.

By the time Mahtab got tired of playing in the other room with Olympia, the ragdoll, and hurried to the living room to ask when they will finally go home, she saw her Papa in a very strange condition. He was laughing and crying at the same time, in a very funny way. Tonton Mohammed tried to make Papa stand up from the armchair but he will sit back quickly always. Finally Tonton lifted Papa up and made his head rest against his shoulder. As he saw Mahtab, he softly said:

\- Mahtab dear, can you come after us on your feet?

\- Sure. – She nodded. – What happened to Papa?

\- He is… he is just playing, dear.

While that, Erik started singing various bits of opera arias, and interrupt them with laughing fits. The cab did not want to take them to Erik's address because of how drunk the ex- Opera Ghost was, but Mohammed- Ismael was determined about getting to Erik's home and he promised to make sure Erik won't do any harm to the carpet.

Christine was nervous. Erik left hours ago to pick up Mahtab from the Persian, and he was in a mood that made her think of bad things he might have committed. He seemed to be so nervous and scared, a bit of hopeless… she did not think he would hear these wonderful news with such a worry. She was walking up and down in the empty house. In years, there was no time she would be all alone at home and she wasn't used to it. She did not like being alone anyway, these empty rooms scared her and gave him an uneasy feeling. She tried to shoo negative thoughts off from herself as she knew it will do no good in her current condition to worry.

Suddenly, she heard noises. A cab stopped in front of the house and she heard an operatic male voice on full volume, but with very hard articulation singing a disgustingly obscene couplet- chanson that was about a bargain going on with a prostitute. Christine turned bright red of shame and anger at the same time, seeing Erik was carried out of the cab, as he wasn't able to stand on his feet all by himself and he shouted some obscenities then continued singing that Hell of music. She did not even imagine Erik would KNOW a song like that, and she was shocked to see Mahtab jumping up and down behind the two men and laughed.

\- Papa, one more song, please, one more…!

\- Sssssh! – The Persian tried to calm the child, but Erik did not even hear them, he was so lost in dirty songs.

The window opened and Erik looked up, realizing he was at home and shouted up to his wife:

\- Christiiiiiie!

\- Erik, stop yelling…- - The Persian tried his best to support Erik and drag him to the door, but Erik did not want to get inside yet. He ripped himself out of the Persian's hands and staggered under the window and as he tried to go on his knees he fell on his "nose" then tried his best to get up, moaning a few cusswords. Finally he was on his knees and started a "serenade" for his wife, but as he wasn't the least sober, he again chose the wrong thing to sing at the top of his lungs and instead of a romantic opera aria he just ordered some marital rights to be fulfilled very soon after he finishes singing.

Christine wasn't in the best mood. She was all worried about Erik the whole afternoon and now as she had to see Erik being as drunk as a Lord, she lost all her patience suddenly and grabbed the full washbowl from the nightstand beside her bed and dumped all its contents through the window on Erik's head. The chilly water arrived on his few locks of black hair, causing him a shiver, then he finally passed out on the ground.

Christine wasn't in the mood for talking right at that moment. She just asked the Persian to carry Erik in the guest room and thanked his service shortly, then grabbed the happily dancing Mahtab's bony wrist and led her to her room.

\- Change into sleepwear, Mahtab, I will come back shortly. – She tried to sound kind to the child, but it was very hard to do so as she was very annoyed and mad.

The Daroga arrived out of the guest room and stood beside Christine.

\- Christine, please… don't be too harsh on Erik…

\- What kind of a condition is this to arrive home in? – She asked with disgust. – I have never seen him so drunk in my life.

\- It is my fault, Christine. – The Persian nodded ashamedly. – I gave him too much to drink.

\- Why?

\- We wanted to celebrate the great news. – Mohammed lies, as he knew that Christine would be very sad to hear the real reason. – Please accept my most heartfelt congratulations. – He added with a faint smile.

\- Oh… Thank you – She smiled widely. – So is Erik happy for the child?

\- Yes he is. – Mohammed- Ismael nodded with the most natural expression he could force on himself. – After the first shock he is very glad he will finally have another child. You know he loves Mahtab and well… to tell the truth… - He softened his voice to a soft whisper – He always dreamed of a baby boy…

\- A boy? Oh, of course… every man wants a son to teach. – She laughed. – Well, we shall wait and see.

After the Daroga left, she went to the guest room to see Erik. In the first wave of rage, she did not want to see him at all and care about him until the next day, but the Persian's words touched her heart and she sat down on the side of the bed. She looked at her sleeping husband and gently stroke his still wet hair, and decided she won't say a single harsh word to Erik about the happenings – he is going to have a rough enough day without it as well.

The next day, in the afternoon when the Persian took his usual walk, he saw the not so happy father – to be, surprisingly all alone, with a big bouquet of red rose in his hand, walking out of a florist shop nearby.

\- Bonjour, Daroga! – He walked closer as he noticed the Persian and slowed down his pace so that they will be able to talk.

\- Hello there, Erik… I am surprised to see you up and walking around today. How are you feeling?

\- Meh… let's just not talk about that. – Erik shook his head.

\- Did you buy flowers to Christine to make her forgive you after the Mephisto – serenade last night?

\- No. I don't really remember much of last night. She isn't angry with me, I just feel I have to repay her for her kindness towards me. I would never dream she will be so forgiving about me getting so drunk.

\- I told you to be careful…

\- Oh, leave me alone, I will never drink that devilish ullage ever again. Erik stays with wine. – He pressed his hand against his forehead for some seconds then continued: - I am still curious though what has happened to Christine. I was prepared for a fight this morning, and she is so kind to me that I can't even stop being astonished about it.

\- Why, what happened?

\- Well, she woke me up with a kiss and brought me coffee in the morning. Not that I wanted to touch it of course. And she was comforting me instead of being disgusted of me. Yet, as I was informed, I succeeded in teaching Mahtab some very nice technical terms, and yet she is not angry.

\- Well, I asked her not to be too harsh on you and maybe…

\- What ELSE did you tell her, hm? – Erik asked, now knowing well that it was the Daroga who told her something.

\- I said you were happy about the pregnancy, that's why you drank so much. – Mohammed admitted softly as they walked.

\- Well… thank you for saving me and not telling the real case… I owe you one.

He sighed and looked at the roses in his hand and thought of Christine, and tried to imagine themselves with two children… it wasn't easy yet. He had to pretend to be happy about it, now thanks to the Daroga. He wasn't mad about it, but it gave a plus task for him to complete, he had to wear a social mask in front of his family, especially Christine, which really made him tired. He could never show his real feelings or thoughts as he always had to pretend. This was frustrating and Erik hated to do it. The constant pressure on his soul did not help his temper. He started to be irritated and impatient again, especially if Mahtab nagged him with the thousand questions she always had.

Christine was working on baby accessory again, just like before Mahtab's birth. This thing was very interesting for Mahtab and she decided to investigate it out.

\- Mama!- she jumped up on the couch next to Christine.

\- Yes dear? – She asked, taking a break in knitting the baby's shoes.

\- What are you doing? – The little girl's mismatched eyes examined her with much interest.

\- I am knitting shoes for the baby. – Christine smiled. – You will have a little friend in some time.

\- Like Cadence? – She clapped.

\- Kind of. – Christine nodded carefully, not wanting to show her real emotions about that once existing horrid creature.

\- That is great and where is my friend?

\- Right now, in my belly. – Christine smiled.

\- Why did you eat it? – Mahtab exclaimed with disbelief.

\- I did not. – Christine patted her daughter's shoulder. – The baby is growing in my belly until it is time for it to join our family.

\- It will be a huge baby? – She asked with growing interest.

\- A baby is a small thing, my dear, it will be so small that a shoe like this will fit on its feet. – Christine showed Mahtab a shoe she already finished.

\- So small? – She got astonished, examining her own feet. They seemed to be much bigger.

\- Yes my sweetie, but it will grow up soon. You were so small once as well, when you were born.

\- And how did the baby get in your belly? – She asked.

\- Oh… - Christine gasped in surprise. She did not expect the talk to arrive so early and she did not really know how to answer her and she was ashamed, but did what she knew was best – passing the subject on Erik. – Ask Papa about it, he will tell you.

Mahtab stormed into the study where Erik was bending over his desk, working on some music to calm his nerves. He had another terrible nightmare the night before about his disfigured second baby and that sealed his mood for the whole day.

\- Papa!

\- What's that, Mahtab? – He groaned.

\- Papa, how did the baby get in Mama's belly?

Erik dropped his pen in shock and kicked the leg of the desk unintentionally.

\- Who told you this? – He leaned closer to the girl suspiciously.

\- Mama.

\- Great. – Erik sighed and let Mahtab climb up on his lap.

\- So how babies come?

The child doesn't want to forget about this subject, damn it… what to say… what to say…?

\- Well… why don't you ask Mama about it?

\- She told me to ask it from you.

"How nice of you my dear Christine…" – Erik thought to himself, then he cleared his throat and started the explanation on a level he knew it will be suitable for Mahtab.

\- You know, my girl, babies are given by God.

\- Really?

\- Yes.

\- Which one? Because Tonton Mohammed says there is no God only Allah.

\- Yes, dear, it is the same thing. Remember when Mama read on Christmas how Jesus was born?

\- Yes from the big old storybook she only uses on holidays.

\- That's right. And you remember they say that Mary gave birth to Jesus?

\- Yes.

\- Well, Jesus was sent to Earth by God, or as Tonton Mohammed says, by Allah.

\- Yes. – Mahtab nodded.

\- So, all babies are sent by God to Papas and Mamas all over the Earth.

\- How much babies?

\- As much as they are praying for.

\- Did you pray for me to come? – She hugged Erik's chest.

\- Of course, dear. – Erik smiled, but deep in his heart he knew it wasn't thr whole truth… just as it isn't with the new baby either.

\- And God puts the baby in Mama's belly?

\- Yes.

\- But why?

\- Like that the baby is safe and it can grow in peace.

\- Now I understand. – Mahtab clapped. – So the Angel or what told Mary she will have a baby.

\- Yes, Mahtab, you are clever. – Erik nodded, being proud of his daughter that she remembered such a thing.

\- And the Angel of Music told Mama she will have a baby.

\- Yes… WHAT? – He gasped in horror. – What did you say?

\- The Angel of Music came to Mama and told her about the baby.

\- Who told you about the Angel of Music? – Erik's eyes narrowed.

\- Tonton told once that the Angel of Music showed up for Mama through the mirror.

\- He was just joking, Mahtab.

\- I don't believe you. – She retorted.

\- Why?

\- Because Mama said that the Angel of Music was real.

\- Did she?

\- Yes, she told a story of it to me. She told me I nearly got the name Lotte.

\- Eh… well, then yes, it was the Angel of Music.

\- Will I see it too, Papa?

\- Maybe. – Erik replied mechanically. – But please leave Papa alone now, he has some work to do.

\- All right, I will go and play with the piano. Can I?

\- Yes- yes, just go. – Erik nodded quickly, putting Mahtab down from his lap.

As Erik was left alone with his thoughts, he took a deep sigh. He did not have any urge to compose anymore, so he tossed the sheet music away and he was nervously playing drums against the surface of the table with his long skeletal fingers. He did not like the fact that Christine told that damned story to the child and now Mahtab will live in that stupid fantasy world as well, just like her mother did in her youth. He wanted to raise a rational child, with two feet on the ground, just like he was, not one that was all in the clouds. There were things they did not agree in about raising children – way of discipline, unnecessary fairy tales… Erik wanted his daughter to be emotionally stronger than Christine was – with a childish soul like Christine, and with devil's little face on her head she is going to need nothing more than emotional strength. A life that awaits for her will kill her in no time if she turns out to be like Christine.

Christine handled her pregnancy way better after the nausea finally left her side. She desired sweet flavors mostly, and would just take some sugar on her finger from the sugar – holder cup in the kitchen and lick it off, to ease her great pain for it. She did not have cramps like when she was pregnant with Mahtab and she was starting to get optimistic about her pregnancy will be much easier this time and maybe childbirth as well.

Erik, though, was tortured by anxiety and stomach problems because of that. He did not have much sleep, he was chewing his nails, and couldn't stop thinking of the horrid features of a possibly deformed second child. When he closed his eyes, he saw a noseless little skull – head and it was the best possibility he could imagine. He wasn't an optimist now, not after Mahtab's birth. He remembered back once imagining Mahtab with a perfect face, playing with blocks in the nursery before her birth, and what came out of it…? He would better be prepared for the worst possible outcome.

Mahtab was waiting for her small friend to arrive finally. She asked every day when it will be winally there with them, and kept asking questions about the baby's size, color, gender, name, and everything that came to her mind, annoying Erik with it to no end.

\- Will it have a nose, Papa? – She asked once, looking at Erik with wide eyes.

Erik did not answer this question, just asked Mahtab to go and help her mother with something. It was the same very question ringing in his mind, day by night: "Will it have a nose?"

\- Erik dear, may I ask you a favor? – Christine asked one night when they were just silently sitting on the couch in the salon together after they put Mahtab to bed.

\- Sure thing, my dear. – Erik looked up from his book.

\- If this time we are going to have a son, I ask him to be named after my Papa.

\- Erik had the same idea as well, my dear, as he knows well how much you loved your father and to be honest, Erik has no other idea for a name. I ask you only not to call him Erik, but that was all he could come up with.

\- I am glad you agree. – She smiled.

\- I do Christine… but please forgive me… may I ask what his name was? I don't remember you ever mentioning it.

\- Oh, did I not? I only called him "Papa", right? Well, his name was… Florian.

\- It is a good sounding name. – Erik nodded. – But may Erik ask something as well?

\- Of course, dear.

\- If we have another daughter, let me name her Genevieve.

\- Oh, it is a very beautiful name, dear. Why didn't you name Mahtab that?

\- Erik was too nervous to pick the easiest way possible back then, and simply name his daughter after his poor unhappy mother, but now I would like to name my daughter that.

\- Your mother had a beautiful name.

\- So did your father. – Erik answered a bit of sadly.

After they picked up the names, Erik had a better feeling about the baby. At least he could call it somehow in his mind, either male or female it will turn out to be. And as he could call it ba a name, he realized that the baby will need a place to sleep at. He did not want to redesign the guest room as it was good when he was ill and the Daroga had to live with them, and he could never know when it will come in handy the next time. Mahtab's room was big, and well, there was a very big empty space in the middle of the room… he could half the room by building only a single wall in the middle of the room, and this way both of the children will have a room of their own. Christine, however, tried to change his mind about the subject. She thought that they could easily be placed in the same room, without any separation.

\- Well, maybe but what if they are not the same gender? – Erik asked. – They will need some privacy, you can't place a boy in a girl's room.

\- It doesn't matter until they grow older, I think and after a few years you can still split the room in two halves. It would be way easier for us to tell them a bedtime story at the same time, and they will get to like each other more easily if they sleep in the same room.

\- You might be right. Well, you saved Erik from some work then.

Mahtab, even though mostly she was a good girl, and she threw way less tantrums than a year ago, sometimes would still try her parent's patience.

One day, when Christine was in the eight' month of her pregnancy, and Erik was teaching Mahtab how to play the piano by sitting her on his lap, Christine walked in the music room as well, to listen to what they were up to and sat down to the sofa. Mahtab, for some reason, did not even like the fact that her Mama was "bothering" them, but after Erik hushed her, she calmed down and they continued playing.

After some minutes, Christine told Erik she would like to sing something and asked him if he would accompany her. Erik instantly agreed and put Mahtab down from his lap to be able to play. Mahtab did not like this at all so she pulled the back of his waistcoat.

\- I want to go back and play!

\- You will, but Mama wants to sing.

\- She can't! – Mahtab stomped her foot against the wood of the floor.

\- She will. – Erik nodded and turned back to the piano.

Christine started singing, but this time, Mahtab wasn't a good girl during it at all. She tried to make noise to make them stop, but they ignored her. This fact made Mahtab be even more furious and she walked to Christine's side, and with full force, she kicked Christine on the ankle.

The woman cried out in pain and sat on the sofa. Erik's mind was flooded with rage upon seeing what the girl did to her mother, and he wasn't able to think any longer. He jumped up from the piano and rushed to Mahtab, grabbing the child up from the ground.

\- Erik… Erik no! It is all right…! Don't hurt her! – She screamed.

Erik could see or hear nothing from rage any more, not the voice of his wife or the scared cries of his daughter, he sat back down to the piano bench, laying Mahtab across his knees and spanked her with his full rage. It was the first time he hit Mahtab. All stress of these past months, all the choked emotions came to the surface, and this was the straw that broke the camel's back.

He felt someone dragging the child away from him and only then he could her Christine again.

\- Erik, stop…! Are you crazy…? You… you… MONSTER!

She hugged the still sobbing Mahtab to herself, trying to calm her down, but suddenly she cried out in pain. Erik jumped up nervously and asked her what was wrong.

She could only whisper in pain:

\- The baby…

\- But… it is a month early! – Erik exclaimed in worry.

Christine wasn't able to answer him – she fell on the ground, and passed out.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter XVII.

There were loud bangs on the door. It was like someone would hit it with fists, and oh Allah, maybe even kicked the front door. The doorbell was ringing constantly. It was eight o clock in the evening, and yet it was still light outside, as usually in early September, it was most certainly too late for a visit. The Persian stood up slowly from his chair and walked to the door to see who that impatient and late guest might be.

\- Open this damned door you deaf old cop! – He did not even have to answer the door now to know who it was- of course, Erik.

\- Can't you wait in peace? – He scolded his troublesome friend, but he was very astonished and shocked as he was simply dragged outside, held by his arm. – Erik, are you crazy? – He gasped. – I am not even dressed properly!

The Daroga was only wearing shirt sleeves and slippers at home, and that was not the right outfit to wear for the streets…

\- I don't even care if you come as your Allah created you, you MUST come with me right now!

\- What is your problem? – The Persian asked with surprise.

\- Christine… Christine… - Erik wheezed, dragging the Daroga to a cab and pushed him in.

\- Is it time? – His eyes widened.

\- Yes! – Erik jumped inside as well.

\- But it wasn't supposed to happen until next month…

\- I know well….! It is my fault…. All my fault…! – Erik sobbed in his hands as the carriage left with them.

\- Why?

\- I…. I upset Christine…

\- Oh… - the Daroga bit his lip.

He found it a better idea not to bother Erik until he talks again, so they arrived to Erik's home in complete silence, only Erik's sobs were heard as they finally got in. Shadow ran to greet Erik, but he wasn't in the best mood, and most certainly not in the mood for cuddling, so he shouted at the dog:

\- Out of my house you filthy animal!

Shadow obeyingly ran out and Erik kicked the door closed behind him.

\- Erik, did you call the midwife yet? – The Daroga inquired with concern.

\- I did. – Erik nodded. – They are in the bedroom…

\- Where is Mahtab?

\- In the music room… still… or not… I don't know. But she is afraid of me… she must be…

\- Erik, tell me what happened… - The Daroga inquired patiently as they sat down in the salon. – It would help you calm down as well.

\- Mahtab misbehaved… I got enraged… I spanked her… Christine got upset… and… everything just happened!

\- Erik, it is not a right thing to spank Mahtab, but it is not at all sure that Christine started giving birth because of this.

\- Daroga… she called me a monster… and that's what I am… really… I don't think I deserve a family… children… I treat them unkindly…

\- Erik, please stop it. You can be a monster if you want to, but one thing is sure: you are a surprisingly good father to Mahtab.

\- Am I…? – He asked on a high – pitched, childlike voice, insecurely bracing himself with his arms, rocking back and forth on the couch.

\- Yes you are. If it makes you feel better, I tell you: even I slapped or spanked my son sometimes if he deserved it.

\- Really?

\- Yes, Erik, it doesn't make you a bad father. You treat her kindly, you accepted her with even a face like that, you did not hurt her yet and I don't think you ever will again. You love that child, Erik, and that is the important thing.

\- I do. – He nodded slowly. – I love her.

\- I know. And you will love your second child just as much. I am here with you, Erik, and won't leave your side, please try to calm and relax a bit.

\- I am afraid it will take hours again… long hours.

\- It can happen. – The Persian nodded.

\- How long did it take to have your son, Daroga?

\- About 6 hours. – He smiled sadly.

\- Daroga… I know that a parent should not pick the baby's gender… the only thing that matters is that it will be HEALTHY… and that's what Erik is praying for the most as well… but you know… Erik would so like to have a boy now. Is that wrong?

\- Not at all. That's what I wanted as well in the first place. A son.

\- Would you pray for Erik to have a son? He is too busy praying for it will be born with a normal face. Please…

\- Don't worry Erik, I will.

Not much time after, Mahtab showed up in the salon, walking to Erik and climbed up on his lap just as nothing has happened between them earlier. Erik was surprised to see that the girl did not cry anymore and she did not seem to be mad or scared. She hugged his neck and lay her small skull- head against her Papa's chest, then softly whispered:

\- Ssssh Papa, it is all right.

It was a strange thing how mature Mahtab did act compared to her very young age sometimes. She would always notice if her parents were scared of something and she tried to comfort them as Christine or Erik would comfort her. Erik pulled her head closer and kissed the girl's forehead and softly whispered:

\- I am sorry for hitting you.

\- I am sorry for being bad girl – Mahtab answered.

\- Mahtab is a good girl. – Erik patted her head. – You are the best girl Papa could ask for.

\- I love Papa. – She smiled at him with her deformed, half – missing lips, and Erik realized it was one of the most beautiful smiles he had seen in his life. No matter what a face or what lips produced, it was beautiful because it reflected a child's loving heart.

\- Papa loves you too, sweetie.

\- I will never kick Mama again.

\- I am sure you won't. – Erik nodded and started cradling the child in his arms to make her sleep.

When she fell asleep, he carried her to the nursery that now had the cradle placed back in, waiting for the new habitant to join. Who would think it will be needed so soon? He had uneasy feelings about the early birth… it never means any good.

He was listening for a while in the hall, but no noises gave away any possible happenings, so he returned to the Daroga and sat back down. They were just sitting there silently, to tell the truth, the Daroga did not really know what to say or do, and Erik did not seem to be in the mood for talking or playing cards or chess, so they just sat. But sitting together is way better than sitting alone, as Erik was at least emotionally supported by his friend.

Time passed and passed. Sometimes Christine would cry out in pain once or twice which always made Erik startle and jump up, but the Daroga would always tell him to calm down, it was going to take more time.

\- How do you know? – Erik asked with surprise.

\- Pain of giving birth comes in waves, Erik. When she only cries out once in a while, it means she isn't ready yet. When the pain gets more frequent, that means the child is on its way. Try to measure it with your watch and you will see I was right.

Night fell on them, and still nothing. Mahtab was born at midnight, but now there was nothing yet at midnight, not even more frequent cries.

\- I am sorry, Daroga, for taking you so early and you have to wait here for hours… you may go home if you want to, and Erik will try to handle it alone.

The Persian got surprised Erik thought about someone other than himself. Erik was sure turning to the better, marriage and fatherhood changed him. He smiled at Erik and said:

\- Thank you Erik, you are kind, but I am staying. I am curious to see our little baby.

Erik thanked the Daroga in his mind that he decided the way he did, and was so happy he did not have to say there all alone. It also surprised him that the Persian referred to his unborn as "our baby". Not "your" baby… "our" baby… so the Persian wanted the new child to be in his family… kind of… and considered them so close to him…?

It was a little past two o clock, and they fell asleep on the couch. Erik's head rested against the rail, and his hand touched the ground. The Daroga sat at the other end and snored. That was when Christine let out a cry that nearly lifted the roof up. Erik instantly fell on the floor and the Daroga sat up straight with a gasp.

\- It starts, Daroga, God, it starts! Please, pretty please make it stop! I can't bear to listen…- He plugged his ears in with his fingers.

\- Erik, it is all right…

\- Erik causes so much pain to the one person he loves the most…

\- Erik, it is only natural…

\- It is Erik's fault that Christine is in so much pain.

\- Erik, I think she wanted it as well, didn't she?

\- Stop being so intimate. – Erik snorted. – We are not here to discuss Erik's affairs with his wife!

Erik was walking in circles, like a caged animal, he was wheezing and would return in front of the Persian in the end of each circle and notoriously grab or shake him. Mohammed- Ismael seemed to tolerate Erik's panic fit well. Erik's breath fastened along with Christine's cries, he seemed to be in equally big pain as his wife, and he was shaking from head to foot. His chest heaved up and down, while he was trying to wipe his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. Suddenly he turned to a shade of greenish pale, and with a painful moan, rushed out of the room, and only returned a few minutes later, wiping his mouth with the handkerchief.

\- Allah, are you all right? – The Persian placed his hand on Erik's shoulder.

\- I am now. – He nodded slowly. – Erik doesn't know what on Earth he threw up, he hadn't eaten the whole day.

\- Try to calm down, Erik, it will be all right.

\- Erik is dying of this.

\- Erik has survived way worse things as well. – The Persian teasingly poked him on the side which actually made Erik give a weak smile finally.

\- Erik, sit down please and try to rest. I will tell you something.

\- What you tell Erik…?

\- I think there is something you don't know of me.

\- What is that? – Erik asked exhaustedly, but half curious, as he was placed in his armchair.

\- Well, I write poems.

\- What? – Erik looked up.

\- I write poems. – The Daroga repeated.

\- Do you? Really? – Erik leaned closer, with a grin.

\- Yes, I do, and I wrote one about you.

\- What? – Erik burst out in a fit of laugh.

\- Don't laugh, Erik. – The Persian silenced him with a soft smile.

\- I can imagine it is about my death's head. Or my sins…?

\- No. – He shook his head and fixed his green eyes at Erik. – It is… it was written after you left Persia. I wrote it in prison.

\- Did you waste time to write a poem about Erik… in prison?

\- It wasn't a waste. I just did not tell it before as I thought you would laugh at me.

\- Would you tell it to Erik, Daroga?

\- I will if you promise you won't laugh.

\- I promise. – Erik nodded seriously, straightening himself up in his chair, paying attention.

\- So… don't laugh…

The Daroga cleared his throat, straightened himself up as standing, and closed his eyes not to instantly see Erik's facial expression upon hearing the poem. He never recited the poem to anyone before, especially not to Erik himself, and he blushed at the thought of what he might say after he finishes. He took a deep breath, and started:

Eagle- like free spirit, who flies with his music

Rhythm and melodies make him fly to Allah,

Imaginative, intelligent and independent, and

Kind - if he wants to be.

Erik clapped – not cynically, as the Persian would have expected – and said:

\- Bravo, Daroga! I guess my name comes out if you read the first letters of the lines?

\- Yes.

\- Why did you write it in my native instead of yours?

\- Because it was just fitting- you taught me French.

\- And why did you write a poem about me?

\- Because I missed you.

\- You missed me, Daroga? – Erik asked with disbelief.

\- I did. – The Daroga nodded. – You know Erik, you drove me crazy sometimes, and in a way I was afraid of you, but my fear didn't come from the fact of how you looked like… I was scared because you were as unpredictable and wild as a unicorn. And I felt you can never be tamed. But deep in my heart I always thought and felt you were the closest friend to me. It was always a mix of fear and admiration I felt for you – and I envied you, to tell the truth.

\- Why? You were once quite handsome.

\- I know, Erik, but you are talented, creative, and intelligent. I qould give one of my arms if I had half your brain.

\- Would you give your nose too, Daroga? – Erik chuckled.

\- Oh, you… you are being cynical again.

\- Just something you could expect from Erik. But he has to admit he actually likes the poem you wrote- it is surprisingly good from a policeman.

\- Oh, thank you… you flatter me. – The Persian laughed and sat down on the couch again.

While they were talking, silence fell on the rooms. Everything became silent… TOO silent. Erik was listening nervously. The Daroga lifted his head as well, understanding what Erik got alarmed of. Erik bit his lips. Christine fainted after Mahtab's birth, but at least the child was crying. He could not hear a baby's cry now. Was it a stillborn? Is the child dead in the inside, just as in the outside…? The wind was blowing nearly threateningly outside, chasing the falling brown leaves around the dark garden, but this autumn night, or waking dawn did not share any other sounds. Only sounds of passing, not sounds of a new life...

They could hear the bedroom door flung open, and hurrying steps in the Hall… and Erik could not take it any longer, he lost his consciousness.

When he opened his yellow eyes again, the first sound that reached his ears was a still weak sound he couldn't mistake for anything else: a baby's cry. It was a bit whiny and faint, but it sure was a newborn! He jumped up on his feet, but he was too dizzy yet as he wanted to stand up too quickly, so he fell back in the armchair.

\- Erik! Everything is all right. – The Daroga patted his shoulder.

\- What has happened…?

\- There was a small problem with the baby, but now it is all right.

\- What problem…?

\- The midwife told me navel-string was around the baby's neck, but now it is breathing again.

\- God's punishment for the Punjab lasso… - Erik sighed. – My own baby nearly strangled itself.

\- At least you show some regret. – The Daroga said.

\- Boy or a girl…?

\- I don't know, it isn't fully out yet. The midwife went back to help Christine with the final act.

It was half past three in the morning of a Friday, 7th September, 1888, when the midwife arrived in the doorway with a tiny bundle in her hands. The bundle was still crying.

\- M'sieur Spöke, I 'ave a good news! – She proclaimed happily. – You have a son!

\- Healthy? – Erik asked, hurrying towards them. – Let me see him!

As Erik lifted the tiny thing out of the midwife's hands, he saw a perfectly normal face of an ordinary human being. The baby was smaller than Mahtab, as it arrived a month early, but his face was as beautiful as a small angel's. Rosy colored, with a cute small nose, normal lips, big blue eyes, and it had some dark hair as well. Erik couldn't see from tears. He held a beautiful baby boy in his arms- his perfect little angel.

\- My son… - he muttered. – Oh, my sweet little son…

Suddenly he lifted his head in worry and asked:

\- How is my wife…? God… What has happened to Christine…?

\- She is a bit of tired, M'sieur, but she is all right.

\- May I see her?

\- Yes, M'sieur, she is awake.

Erik hurried to the bedroom with his son in his arms and stood next to the bed. Christine's eyes were closed, she looked pale, the bed was a total mess with blood and sweat, but she had a smile on her face.

\- Christine, my dear… - Erik called out soothingly. – Erik is here… are you feeling well?

\- Yes… - She opened her eyes. – I am fine, Erik dear. And you…?

\- Me too, Christine. Thank you! – He went on his knees beside the bed and took his wife's hand and kissed it. – Thank you for him.

\- Is it… a boy? - She smiled.

\- Yes, it is, my darling, you gave birth to Erik's little son. Look – he showed the child's face to Christine, who melted at the mere sight of her beautiful baby. – He looks like Papa!

\- If you think so, Erik is happy, though he must admit he thinks all babies just look the same to him. – He chuckled.

Christine laughed as well, faintly, her voice was ringing in Erik's ear like bubbling of a small fountain. He gently stroke Christine's white face with his finger, then cooed:

\- Please try to relax, dear. I am here to take care of our son. Don't worry.

\- Erik, wait! – She called out as Erik wanted to turn around to leave.

\- Yes, my sweet Christine? – He asked nervously. – Are you feeling ill? Do you need anything?

\- Lean close to me, I would like to ask a favor.

\- Ask away, my love… anything I fulfill.

\- I want to whisper it in your ear. – She said a bit naughtily.

Erik leaned to his wife's face and she nearly pressed her lips against his ear, whispered something, to which Erik looked at her a bit of like he did not really like what was asked of him, but finally he nodded.

\- As you wish, Christine, Erik could never say no to his beautiful angel. But now please sleep.

With an even wider smile Christine closed her eyes again, and Erik carried his newborn to the salon again, to show him to the Daroga as well. The Persian waited sitting on the sofa when Erik stepped in. Mohammed-Ismael instantly stood up to this special moment, and as Erik approached him and reached out the little boy, he proudly introduced the new family member:

\- Tonton Mohammed, this is Erik Florian Daaé- Spöke. My son.

\- You told me you did not want to name him after yourself.

\- Christine wanted it. I am against two names anyway, but well. I think he should decide which one he wants to use if he grows older. Erik refuses to call him Erik, though.

\- A nice name, and he is very sweet.

\- Who thought Erik can create such a nice little face, eh? – He smiled at the young baby, slowly cradling him.

The door creaked and as they turned to face the door to see who wanted to enter the room they noticed a small figure standing there. She wore her sleepwear, and her sleepy eyes gave away she was just startled up by the happenings.

\- Mahtab, sweetie, come! – Erik knelt down to meet the level of his daughter's height. – Come and see your brother.

The girl ran to them excitedly and gave an astonished little gasp when her sunken skull – eyes met the baby's perfect features.

\- Baby! Hello there, Baby Boy!- She gave a wide smile that looked more like a snarl because of her twisted lips.

\- His name is Florian. – Erik said, patting Mahtab's shoulder.

\- God named him that?

\- No, Mama and I named him that.

\- He has a nose. – She clapped.

\- Yes he does. – Erik replied. – But I would love him even if he didn't. Just as I love you sweetie.

He hugged his daughter close to him and kissed her tiny deformed cheek, and as he looked at his children, he could really not tell if he loved any of them more or not – they were equally beautiful.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter XVIII.

Six months passed since Erik Florian's birth.

He was developing normally, he ate a lot and grew as a mushroom as Erik would jokingly say. Compared to his tiny and weak build as a newborn, he gained weight normally and in 2 months he weighed nearly the normal weight of a baby in his age. He was a beautiful little boy with his dark brown hair and huge blue eyes. His eyes reminded Erik of Christine, and Christine of her father. Papa had eyes like these. Clear blue as the ocean. His hair was the same shade as Erik's and Erik once remarked his mother had the same hair color as well. Even though Christine often told Erik the baby looked like her father, Erik found no resemblance with the child and the portrait Christine guarded on her nightstand in the bedroom, but even Christine admitted it wasn't a too much lifelike portrait, but it was the only one that left for her of her father. Christine asked Erik once if he could draw another one that resembles more to Papa, but Erik, even though he was excellent at drawing portraits, admitted that he can't really do it only by other people's descriptions, he should have seen Papa Daaé himself to do it. He made a very beautiful and detailed watercolor painting of Christine once, and she loved it so much that she asked Erik to hang it in the drawing room so she can see it often.

The parents were a bit of worried at first that Mahtab was going to be jealous of the newborn, but to their pleasant surprise, the girl adored her little brother from the beginning. She climbed up to the cradle to watch his face and pet him, and she called him "Baby Flo" or simply "Flo" for the nickname of Florian, so the name got stuck on the baby quickly. The family was nearly constantly together. Both of the parents equally took their parts in taking care of Flo and Mahtab so that neither of them feels neglected. Mahtab was more comfortable following her father though, as always. They told a bedtime story to both of the children at the very same time, and both of them kissed both children good night, so they were treated equally.

But Erik felt guilt sometimes, even like this. He felt guilty for not being a loving father to Mahtab since the very first moment of her birth and he needed months to get used to her presence in the house, and nothing like the aforementioned issues did happen with his son and him. He could show affection and love from the very first day to his son – he kissed him, he petted his tiny face and forehead and he would admire those perfect baby features his son had. He caught himself lifting Flo out of the cradle many times to play with and talk nonsense to. It was something he did not really do to Mahtab when she was a baby. To hide his shame about this, he tried to make Christine stop babbling to the baby boy and playfully scold her for it:

\- I told you Christine, that this "da da da ay-yay" isn't worthy of anything, you should teach the young human being to something more useful.

Christine just smiled and shook her head fondly, then continued on with her cooing. One time when she stepped in the room and Erik was holding the boy to his chest, cooing to him the same way she did, she nearly burst out in laughter, but Erik suddenly sensed her presence in the room, so he quickly changed the subject:

\- So, to resume again, my boy: "Any object, wholly or partially immersed in a fluid, is buoyed up by a force equal to the weight of the fluid displaced by the object." You'd better remember that as we are going to observe more experiments upon this subject soon. Tomorrow I am going to teach you about gravity acceleration.

\- Oh Erik… - she whispered in front of herself, chuckling, then left the room just to hear Erik started his baby language again.

However well Mahtab was handling the situation of the arrival of her baby brother, she took up weird habits that couldn't be explained by Christine. She was trying to grow Mahtab's hair to the level that could be braided, but she did not let it. If her hair reached shoulder length, she was whining for a haircut.

\- But dear, a girl has long hair. Look at me. Don't you want a hair like Mama?

\- No. – She shook her head. – Long hair bothers me.

\- But it is unladylike to wear your hair so short, Mahtab sweetie. Let it fall down to your shoulders at least, please. Mama will put a nice ribbon in it and you will look so cute. Please.

\- No, I want it short.

\- Papa wears it even longer than you, dear and he is a man.

\- I don't care, I hate long hair and I am not wearing it.

Christine did not have any other choice than cutting Mahtab's hair again up until the point it only covered her ears. That was the length she tolerated without whining. This would have been the smaller problem, but one day Mahtab stood in front of her and asked for pants.

\- Excuse me, sweetie… what do you need? – Christine picked up Mahtab from the ground and looked at her worriedly.

\- Pants. Like boys wear.

\- Why do you need pants, you are a girl!

\- I don't want to be a girl. I am a boy.

\- No, you are not…

\- Yes I am, I will ask Papa to make me a boy. I want to learn how to be a boy, and boys wear pants.

\- Why do you want to be a boy? – Christine placed the child on the sofa and put her hand on her forehead to check if she was feverish.

\- Just because it is fun.

\- Why do you think it is fun?

\- Because boys can do everything. They can ride horse, they can do swordfights, they can get what they want and sing.

\- Girls… also can sing Mahtab.

\- Better arias are for boys. Girls are just screaming, boys sing the better melodies.

\- Oh my God, sweetie, and only because of this…?

\- No. But Papa can do a lot of things you cannot. He can fix everything. He is a hero. I want to be like Papa. I want to be a boy.

\- But you can be like Papa without being a boy, dear.

\- No, I can't because in the stories girls only can wait for the boy to save them, and should do nothing.

Christine found out that Mahtab wasn't an ordinary small girl. She knew a lot more things than she should, and Christine started to think she spends too much time with Erik, maybe that is the problem. But they love each other so much… maybe Erik will tell her about how these things work.

Erik did not really react the way Christine expected him to do on this subject.

\- Then give her a pair of pants, Christine.

\- But… she is a girl.

\- She is yet a child, Christine, we don't really take her anywhere, so people won't say it is not right. She will grow it out, it is a temporary stage in her life. Many children get through a similar thing, but people don't talk about it. And even if she chooses she was more comfortable wearing pants at home… who am I to tell her not to?

\- But why does she talk about swordfights? Where did she get the idea from?

\- Where, my dear? Where else, but from the operas you keep showing her? I told you she was yet too young for Carmen, for example. But you know better always, Erik is talking to you and it reaches your nice little ear and slips out on the other.

\- Do you think so…?

\- I know so. –He nodded. – Anyway I see nothing wrong with Mahtab wearing pants for a time, and wanting to learn things I can do.

\- She wants to fix things… would you give her a screwdriver, for example, Erik?

\- Why not? I will teach her how to use it and of course I will take care of her not doing any harm to herself or others with it.

\- Erik a small girl should have absolutely nothing to do with a screwdriver! Papa did not teach me these things and I am fine without them.

\- You are, Christine, because you have someone who does it for you if things need to be repaired. But… I am actually happy that Mahtab wants to learn these things. With her looks, Christine… - Erik paused for some moments, turning away slightly and Christine could have sworn he dried his eyes with a handkerchief. – with her looks she should be prepared of… living on her own.. alone after we are gone. A woman living alone should know how to repair things and use tools usually a man does.

\- You are turning Mahtab to a tomboy and we will end up having two sons… - Christine sighed.

\- You don't seem to understand what I say, Christine. – Erik gave a little irritated sigh and walked out of the room.

Christine felt it wasn't any use of arguing either with Erik or Mahtab about the subject, so Mahtab got a new wardrobe the next week. She got fashionable boy clothes, her favorite outfit was a navy blue sailor- coat with shorts of the same color. She got a knee- length pair of white socks and a pair of dark blue shoes. Her silky dark blonde hair was combed following the latest fashion of small boy's hair-do. Erik did not mind the change. Mahtab was equally dear to him in girl or boy outfit, and as she was following him around still, he did not even feel the difference. They spent time together just as much time as earlier, the only thing that changed was how they spent that time. Instead of Mahtab following him around and just asking him endless questions, she wanted to productively help. This, of course, was at first more like causing him trouble and just gining him more things to fix, but he still did not mind it. She was actually very handy little child, she was talented in handling tools, Erik would say she even was better at repairing things and understanding mechanical structures than playing the piano. "This child really should have been born as a boy." – he thought to himself sometimes. Maybe Mahtab DOES feel this way with a good reason?

Christine was just patiently waiting for Mahtab's episode of life to be finally over and she will get her baby daughter back whom she can dress nicely and teach about girlish things to do, as she was supposed to. She tried to teach her to do embroidery or sew, but she wasn't interested in these fields at all. With a yawn she jumped off of the sofa and walked away to search for Papa who will sure show her how to dissemble and reassemble a pocket watch. Gears, springs, screws, nails and tools were the only thing that interested her besides music. She was really turning out to be a small version of Erik – and it sometimes scared Christine. Not only Mahtab resembles her father by devil's face, but it seems like she inherited his crazy inventor mind as well? That was a really dangerous thought and she did not even dare to guess what will happen to Mahtab if she goes on this path. But at the same time, they seemed to be so happy together that she did not have the heart to tell Erik to stop it and she did not think he would have listened. They spent hours together, Erik explaining clockworks, counterweights, and many more things Christine could not even understand to the child. Her mind was rapidly skyrocketing, and the problem was that her old toys weren't enough anymore to occupy her mind. Stupid teddy bear, ragdoll, wooden blocks… she wanted something more interesting to play with. Erik, of course, knew how she felt as he went through the exact same phase during his childhood, but the difference was his mother did not care about it. But he did not want to make the same mistake with his own child, might it be a boy or girl.

\- Erik, I am afraid Mahtab is too young yet to learn such things.

\- It doesn't seem to give her any trouble. She likes to learn things from me.

\- But you teach her totally the other way around then you should. She doesn't even know the alphabet yet, and you teach her about clockworks.

\- She doesn't need the alphabet to know mechanical structures. By the way we are going to learn the alphabet soon.

\- What do you mean of "we"?

\- Well, Mahtab and I, Christine, your husband, Erik. Who else should I mean?

\- Do you want to teach her to write? – She asked with surprise.

\- Why, yes. Well, I know what you mean, I have quite a nasty penmanship myself, and this, to be honest, worries me a bit, yes. But we will figure it out somehow.

\- I thought she will learn to write at school.

\- School? – Erik wheezed nervously as a cat.

\- Don't you want her to learn at best primary school of Paris? – Christine scratched her head.

\- Do you know what you just asked, Christine? How on Earth could Mahtab attend public school? Can't you see it is impossible?

\- It was impossible for you with a mother who did not love you, but we cover her face and…

\- And what, Christine? We cover her face only to make it possible for her to leave the house without people doing nasty things to her. But to go to school, day by day with a bunch of other kids isn't Mahtab's future, I fear. And believe me, it is better like this.

\- You cannot separate her from the world forever…

\- It is not Erik who separates her, Christine. People separate her from themselves. If they accepted us, monsters, as we are, I would be more than happy to send her to school every morning, to wave to her as she jumps down the stairs of the porch with her alphabet book under her arms- but as I know what would wait for her outside, I would rather die than let her among other children.

\- I am sure there is a way to…

\- You clearly still don't understand. – Erik shook his head.

The next moment the drawing room's door flung wide open and Mahtab ran through it towards Erik, with a small paper in her hand.

\- Look, Papa, I drew a toy I would like to have. I know how it should work but don't know what to do to make it come true. Do you help me?

\- Of course, dear… let me see it… - Erik caught the paper and examined it. – Do you want a toy train? You already have one, dear, why would you want another?

\- But it is not an ordinary train. It can move and whistle.

\- Oh. Whistle? – Erik knelt down to her with growing interest.

\- Yes, playing music.

\- A train that plays music… ?

\- And it moves around.

\- Interesting! I am sure we can work it out. – Erik smiled, patting the child's shoulder. – All right, I have something in my mind already. Come, my dear child, to the study, we will figure it out and I will explain to you about how music boxes and organs work. Do you want to know that?

\- Of course! – The girl jumped up and down in excitement by Erik's side as they left the room together.

He next days were spent planning out Mahtab's new toy. As Christine heard, Erik and Mahtab were talking about it will be powered by electricity and should have a small organ pipe series built in along with an electrical windbag that is also powered by electrical engine, and Erik even said it will be able to play multiple songs, but she had no idea how Erik imagines it to work. No one saw such a thing yet… for example how on Earth does he chose the melody the mini organ would play?

\- But it is the most simple part of the project my Christine. – Erik laughed when she asked the question that made her think the whole day.

\- Would you mind explaining then?

\- Well, the method is the same they would use with a mechanical organ, but I don't think we should use wax rolls with a child's toy. I think I am going to design small disks that are put to the structure on the upper part of the locomotive and that is how it can be turned around so that the mini organ plays music, just as a music box would. And you can change the mini disk any time, to change the melody it plays.

\- Erik, this is a lot of work, isn't it?

\- It will take us a while, yes, but don't worry dear, Mahtab loves the process. Even inventing the machine gives her so much joy, I never saw her so happy before. I think, tomorrow we are going to start working on the thing.

They could not though. As Erik opened his eyes when he woke up in the middle of the night, he felt unbearable level of earache and sore throat. He had difficulty with swallowing and he felt rather lousy. A sigh left his lips, but he instantly regretted this act of displeasure as his throat felt like a needle was thorn to it by full force. He moaned in pain and turned to his other side in bed, and this tossing woke Christine up as well. As Erik moaned again, she felt something wasn't right.

\- Erik, are you feeling well? – She called out nervously, leaning closer to her husband.

\- No. – Erik answered honestly, he was too sick to deny it. And by the way, it wasn't easy to deny an illness when he was barely able to speak. This one word made him a lot effort to say.

\- What is wrong? – Christine sat up in horror. She already imagined Erik to be as sick as he was some years ago, again.

\- My throat. – Erik whispered as he could only talk softly without extreme pain.

\- Again? – Christine asked with a mix of compassion, surprise and relief. Yes, Erik had much trouble with his throat lately. In the past three months or so, Erik got throat infections nearly all the time, and he seemed to handle them worse and worse. Erik didn't reply, he closed his eyes, but they reopened in a second. – Erik, do you want me to call the doctor for you?

\- Morning. – Erik clenched his throat, struggling to tell this one word, informing Christine that it could wait until morning.

\- Do you need anything to ease your pain, dear?

\- No. – He wheezed. – Just… don't… make… Erik… speak.

Christine couldn't wait for it to be morning as Erik was suffering so badly it was a pain to watch, and she wanted the doctor to help him as soon as possible. With a very hectic morning with the two children and the Daroga involved, Doctor Bonsanté finally arrived. He disappeared in the bedroom with Erik and stayed for some minutes. Christine was worriedly praying, and the Daroga looked like he did the same, just by his own religion.

When the doctor finally left the bedroom, he gestured Christine to follow him to the drawing room where they could talk in peace. Christine followed him with trembling legs as she knew it wasn't a good sign. If the doctor found nothing too serious, he just told Erik himself in the bedroom what to do, and just told Christine a quick diagnose and left. If he wanted to talk more detailed about the problem, it meant Erik was seriously ill again.

\- What is the matter? – She whispered worriedly. – Will he survive?

\- Of course, he will. – The doctor nodded. – It isn't too serious, Erik has tonsillitis.

\- Again? – She inquired.

\- Yes, and exactly that's what I wish to talk about. Erik is starting to get tonsillitis way too often for my taste. There are times when he is all right but his tonsils are nearly all the time infected now. I have been trying to talk to him about getting them removed for several years… well, maybe decades. But he never listens to me and he thinks it is just the way it should be.

\- So you say he needs an operation? – Christine gasped in horror, covering her mouth.

\- I do believe it would help him, yes.

\- But isn't it risky? Maybe Erik chooses not to have a surgery for a reason, doctor.

\- As every medical treatment, it has risks, of course, and Erik is a special case due to lack of nose. But it is a bigger risk to leave things as they are now, I think.

\- Why?

\- Do you remember Erik's last serious illness?

\- How could I forget…? – Christine closed her eyes sadly.

\- Well, I don't want to scare you, but it can happen again. Anytime. Do you remember I told you to take care that Erik does not get too much infection in his throat?

\- Yes, doctor.

\- Rheumatic fever and tonsillitis are both caused by the same kind of bacteria. If Erik has his tonsils infected all the time it is way harder to prevent rheumatic fever to develop, and this time, we might not be as lucky as we were the last time it happened. Erik is getting older and older, his system is less likely to fight with such an aggressive inflammation and it can attack his heart anytime.

\- I see what you mean.

\- So, I ask you to convince Erik to have tonsillectomy performed. I have a very good friend and colleague who knows everything about this new method of surgery and I can recommend him with all my heart and medical knowledge. We shall wait until Erik is cured of this illness he has right now as tonsils are not allowed to be removed when infected as they would cause infection to spread through his whole body. Until he gets better, please convince but don't force him to the decision. You are his wife, you sure know him enough to know what to tell him that makes him finally agree.

\- I will try my best. – Christine nodded and wiped her eyes of tears that started to form.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter XIX.

\- Don't forget to pack your bathrobe, Erik, dear.

– Christine carried the long sleeved, golden embroidered blue silk robe to her husband, like a mother who makes sure her child does not forget to pack the necessities or the favorite toy. Her constant caretaking and nagging was a bit of tiring for Erik, especially that he wasn't in the best mood other ways either. He didn't want to show it to his family though, this was his last morning at home before going to the hospital for the surgery and he wanted Christine and the children to remember him to be a happy and loving father and husband, if the misfortune that accompanied him through his whole life, would prevent him from ever returning. He was a bit of afraid of the risks of the operation, he heard about many mishaps that happened to people during tonsillectomy: unstoppable bleeding, change of voice, damaged vocal chords, later bleeding of the wound… and who on Earth is happy for the thought that someone he doesn't even know is going to work in his mouth by a scalpel? He was terrified of the thought of choking in his own blood.

\- Christine… - He called out before the young woman left the room to check on Florian.

\- Yes, Erik? – She turned back and ran to his side. – Do you need anything else?

\- I love you. – He confessed, suddenly taking his beautiful wife's small wrist in his skeletal, twice as huge hands. – I always have and always will. Please remember that.

\- I love you too, Erik. – She smiled warmly and leaned her head against Erik's chest, gently hugging him with her free hand. – I can hear your heartbeat. – She added some seconds later. – And it is the most beautiful music I have ever heard in my life.

\- Oh, Christine… - He could not say anything else as his throat was suddenly too tight with crying.

As he was finished with packing his things he needed for a few days stay in the hospital in a smaller suitcase, he went to the children's' room to kiss them bye-bye before leaving. Mahtab hugged him tight and asked when he will come back.

\- I am supposed to stay for a week or so. – Erik patted her head and kissed her forehead. – I know it seems like a lot of time, but you will see that time flies. Ask Mama how much nights do you have to sleep until Papa returns. That way it will be much better. Please be a good little girl to Mama and obey her and Tonton Mohammed, right?

\- Right. – She nodded.

\- That1s good. Papa doesn't want to hear about your mischiefs when he returns.

\- No mischiefs, I promise.

\- You promised. Remember. - Erik nodded and stood up from the bed and walked to the cradle. He caressed Flo's face with his thumb and said: - Bye – bye Flo, my sweet little son. Please be a good boy. Papa loves you. – He turned back to Mahtab as well: - Papa loves you both.

\- I love you too, Papa.

She would have loved to run to hug Erik's leg and ask him to take her with him and she wanted to cry of the thought that she won't see Papa for so long time. But she decided to be a good and strong little girl, so she just followed Erik to the Hall without a word. Erik took his suitcase and shook the Daroga's hand before leaving.

\- Thank you, Mohammed for helping me yet again. I can't be thankful enough. – He paused for some seconds, leaned closer to the Persian's ear and added: - Please take care of my family… and if I don't come home… please…

\- Erik, don't say that…

\- We have to think of every possible outcomes. – He sighed, then said good bye to the Persian as well and left the house.

Christine and the carriage were waiting for him in front of the garden gate. Erik looked back at the house once again, memorized every single detail about it, just as he saw it for the first time in his life, then he leaned close to his wife and kissed her cheek for one last time before getting in the carriage. As the vehicle started moving, he saw Christine waving with a handkerchief and Mahtab storming out of the front door, running along the small garden patch to the gate and she was caught by her mother before she could run outside after him. Erik turned his face away from the coach window, as he felt his heart was heavy and he did not want to start sobbing uncontrollably. Crying and tears would do nothing good to his false nose that was built in his human mask. He placed down his suitcase to his feet and hoped for the best to happen.

When he arrived to the hospital, he was surprised about people being actually kind to him. It never happened before that he was treated so kindly at a place he visited, but well, this new human – like mask sure makes his appearance more bearable. He was afraid to meet the doctor, but he was a well- mannered young man as well. After shaking his hand, he kindly offered a seat in his office, and told him everything he already heard from Dr. Bonsanté about the surgery. But there came the unpleasant part.

\- Excuse me for asking… - Dr. Francois Boucher changed the tone of his kind of raspy voice to a more compassionate one while adjusting his glasses with a quick and nervous move. – But my good friend told me something special about you upon consulting with me about the operation and…

\- You want to see my nose. – Erik interrupted. – Or to be clear, the lack of it.

\- Yes… if you please. – Boucher nodded and ran his fingers across his thick reddish blonde hair.

\- Promise me you won't freak out, please. I am a bit sensitive about it. – Erik eyed the other man.

\- Monsieur, I am… actually very much interested in… in…

\- Various interesting disfigurements of the human body. – Erik finished the sentence, a bit impatiently. It bothered him if someone was trying to euphemize about things too much and the time someone spent searching the correct word not to harm him just made the situation way more awkward than it should have been. Erik was the person to name things as they were, and unnecessary "politeness" wasn't his cup of tea.

\- Exactly. – The young man nodded in agreement and he was happy to see that Erik reacted so well on the subject and there was no need to be afraid he might hurt his feelings.

Erik removed his mask with a small sigh and turned back to face the surgeon. He walked closer to examine his patient, which fact Erik did not like too much, but he was bearing it for the sake of a successful operation.

\- I am not going to place you with other people in the same room, Monsieur… - He continued, not really knowing how Erik will handle this conversation.

\- I was just about to ask that. – He nodded gracefully. – But I am glad you see the problem as well.

\- Oh. – Boucher sighed in relief. - I would only do it for your sake, Monsieur, as you have to remove the mask for the operation and afterwards.

\- I understand. – Erik nodded. He wasn't too comfortable about the thought, but at least he did not hear the doctor scream at him of horror as he would have expected – the hospital wasn't as bad as he imagined it to be.

He got a hospital room of his own with one single bed and an end table, and a locker included, it was small but at least no one was going to bother him and use the situation of him being helpless to laugh at, or even torture him in his sleep. He was afraid of the anesthesia happening as well – he was never been put to sleep artificially before and he heard a lot of unpleasant things of it as well – the worst possibility was he wouldn't even wake up from it ever as sometimes complete collapse of blood circulation may happen… but that's not the right thing to think of at that moment. He tried to close his eyes while sitting down at the edge of the bed to evoke the sight of his beautifully built Victorian mansion, with Christine and his children happily waiting for his return.

He didn't get anything to eat or drink after 6 o clock in the evening, and he was constantly licking his lips as they became unbearably dry after a time and he was oh so thirsty. He never thought a few hours without water would be so hard to tolerate. He usually did not drink a lot at all and would go well without fluid intake - why does he want to drink so badly all of a sudden, only when knowing he wasn't allowed to do so? Time passed so slowly and he couldn't really sleep much that night, knowing he was going under the knife the next morning.

Mahtab wasn't calmer than Erik at all, the only difference between them was that while Erik tried his best to not to show any of his feelings, Mahtab was crying from the top of her lungs which woke up Flo as well, so Christine had to guide Mahtab to the master bedroom and lay her in their double bed where Erik would be sleeping. Christine sat beside the sobbing little girl, trying to comfortingly rub her back, singing for her or telling her a bedtime story, but Mahtab did not really want any of these. She was just crying and kept repeating:

\- Papa… Papa… I want Papa… !

Christine picked Mahtab up in her arms and rocked her back and forth for a while but the child did not want to calm down and was wheezing so hard that the poor worrying mother was afraid she might run out of breath. She had to clean Mahtab's nose hole several times, carefully not to hurt any of the veins inside to cause the child a nosebleed. How good it is that Erik taught her to handle the small girl's lack of a nose! Without him she couldn't take care of Mahtab all alone right now.

Suddenly Christine had an idea. Erik invented a device back in the Opera that recorded voice and he once showed it to Christine and recorded his own voice by it, as he was reciting The Raven from Edgar Allan Poe. It was among Erik's favorite poems, and though it wasn't a poem she would show to a child under normal circumstances, but this was an emergency. She knew they still had that device and also the recording with Erik's voice. She went to the attic where they stored the things they did not regularly use, and looked through the boxes and items. It was easy to find the talking machine as it was just placed on the floor, about in the middle of the room. She lifted it up and carried it downstairs where she cleaned it up a bit, carefully, not to break anything on it, then put it down on the small table in the bedroom where Mahtab was still sobbing into Erik's pillow. As Christine cranked it up and with a few cracking sound the machine started talking on Erik's bit of muffled, but still beautiful and recognizable voice, Mahtab instantly sat up in bed, hopefully turning to face the door.

\- Papa….? – She dried her eyes.

\- Only his voice, my sweetie. But I think it is easier to bear his absence if we can hear his voice.

\- Yes, I love when Papa talks. – Mahtab nodded and crawled closer to the machine in bed to hear it better.

She finally fell asleep after the 3rd round of The Raven, she lay across the feet of the bed, occupying both some of Christine's and Erik's place. Christine did not want to wake her up by moving her small body to Erik's pillow, and as her feet had enough space even this way, she just covered her daughter up and placed a soft kiss on the top of her head, then she went to sleep as well. It was 3 o clock in the dawn and she wondered what Erik was doing at that moment.

Erik, to his own surprise, did fall asleep at some point, even with his thirst, missing his loved ones and fear of the surgery. He was woken up by the nurse in the morning, who informed him that he was going to have his surgery very soon. Very kind of her to start his day with causing him a mini panic attack. He lived up until 57 years with his tonsils, and he wasn't at all happy about suddenly getting them removed forcefully from his throat. To his even bigger surprise, removing the mask for the surgery was his smallest problem right at that moment. He thought it would give him a lot more uncomfortable feelings but he could care less about his mask when he was asked to remove it and follow the nurse to the operating room.

In there, he was half alive, half dead of being so nervous and scared of what might be waiting for him. He was guided to take a seat in a chair with many belts made of leather and they tied each and every body parts he could use for fighting, even his ankles. He tried to grip the handrail and think of something else, relaxing as much as he could, but his fear of being helpless kicked in. He was tied down before and it never meant anything good. He suddenly realized what had he done to Christine when he tied her to a chair on that wicked night when he nearly blew the whole Opera up. God, it was terrible! What a monster can do such a thing… to tie someone to a chair… restrain them from moving… He found it a good idea back then as Christine wanted to end her life, and chose the easier way than marrying him… but now he understood what a pain Christine was in. He will never tie everyone to anywhere if he ever gets free again…Oh no, no, no! He doesn't want that thing in his mouth! Now he was completely unable to shut his mouth and it was even more terrible than being tied to the goddamned chair! He felt the coldness and the strange taste of the iron in his mouth and it nearly made him gag. Light was shining in his eyes directly, so he had to close them. Tears were forming in his eyes, and he suddenly had to sneeze… he wanted to kick if he was able to, kick and hit and claw. "Let Erik go! Let him go!" – his mind echoed this constantly as the doctor and the nurse were trying to tell him something that did not even reach his mind… With his mouth totally opened he can't even perform ventriloquism to tell these two to stop what they were doing… The doctor asked him if he was able to breathe through his nose. He could only faintly nod… and after he got something under his nose hole to smell… he took a few deep breaths… the room was spinning… and then everything went black.

When he regained his consciousness he was alone, laying in the bed in his hospital room, on his side, and a small pot was placed under his mouth and blood was slowly dripping from his throat. He was through the operation, and carried back here to wake up and start to recover. He couldn't feel pain. He felt nothing. Not even thirst any more. His mouth was dry but he did not want to drink at all. He was surprised that it did not hurt. He wasn't yet strong enough to think, just closed his eyes again and drifted back to sleep again.

As he woke up again, he felt terrible. He wasn't in pain, but he knew something wasn't right. His head spun, his hands were trembling and he felt his chest was heavy. This time he wasn't the only one in the room, a nurse was standing by his side, holding a pitcher in her hand that she slowly placed to the end table, looking at him in- as at first, he imagined- disgust, as he still wasn't wearing his mask, but as he better examined the young woman, he noticed it was rather worry than disgust. Yes, something wasn't right.

\- Monsieur Spöke, you have to drink some tea now. Are you ready? – She asked kindly.

Erik did not want tea. He turned as white as the wall, and reached out his hand as he was trying to grip the air. His stomach turned.

\- Please don't talk. – The nurse hushed him as he wanted to open his mouth to ask for help. – You are not allowed to talk after the surgery…

Erik pressed his eyes shut, his body was shaking violently and suddenly, he started vomiting blood uncontrollably.

The nurse screamed, and ran out of the room, crying for help. Here comes the death he was so much afraid of… choking in his own blood… Erik wasn't able to concentrate any longer, he fainted back on his bed, making a total mess of it in seconds. Hurrying footsteps could be heard, the door flung open again and the doctor hurried in. He knelt beside him, but he couldn't say nor do anything and finally darkness fell on his vision. He could no longer see or hear anything that was happening around him.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter XX.

Mahtab sat up in bed, screaming. It was some minutes past two in the morning. Christine sat up as well in her bed worriedly and turned to the small girl and asked what was wrong. For a time, Mahtab couldn't reply. She was sobbing again and Christine had to hug her tight to herself. She was so scared for some reason. It seemed that even Christine letting her sleep on Papa's side of the bed did not help to reduce the little child's fear and uneasy feelings. She missed Papa, and felt something bad has happened. She couldn't explain what, but she was sure that Papa was in danger and no matter how Christine tried to calm her, she would just repeat a few words, paying no attention to the comforting.

\- Papa… Papa…! – She was crying so hard that she had to cough.

Christine was softly humming to her, but Mahtab was crying unstoppably this time. Nothing worked to calm her. Christine was ashamed to do such a thing in the end, but she had to make Mahtab drink some warm milk mixed with rum to make her sleep again. She finally closed her mismatched eyes and fell sound asleep under the effect of the alcohol she received.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Alarmed of the late visitor, and afraid that Mahtab or Florian will be startled up by the noise again, Christine put on her bathrobe and hurried to answer the door.

\- Telegram for Mme Daaé- Spöke. – The young man handed her a small envelope. Telegram…? Her heart started sinking as she closed the door again and took a few steps in the hall again. A telegram never means anything good… especially not in this late hour…

As she opened the envelope and read the letter she fainted on the ground with a scream. The Daroga, as he appeared behind her, was already too late to catch Christine, but worriedly lifted the paper out of her grip. He gasped as he read the telegram he held:

 _St. Germaine hospital, Paris_

 _Mme Christine Daaé – Spöke,_

 _With deep regret we have to inform you that your husband, Erik Spöke passed away at ten-thirty, on ninth of May, 1889 after the completed operation. Receive our most heartfelt sympathies._

"Erik… Erik died…? No… No! It can't happen… It simply can't. Erik, my old friend… oh Allah… "

The Persian buried his face in his hands and wept for minutes, shamefully not even minding poor Christine, who eventually woke up on the floor. As she noticed the crying Daroga, she approached him and hugged him tight, sobbing. Both of them cried hard, without a single word, searching for support in each other's companion.

\- It is my fault… - Christine sobbed, gasping for air, clinging to the Daroga's shirt he just put on to be at least minimally dressed properly to go out to see Christine. – It is my fault… he did not want the surgery… I convinced him…

\- Christine, the doctor said that he might have had another case of the fever… and would most likely… die… anyway….

\- But maybe not! Maybe… if I did not send him to the hospital… He'd still be with us… with me… and now he is no more….!

\- The Angel of Music… is finally in Heaven… - The Daroga murmured under his breath, hugging Christine close to his chest.

Just as if Erik knew what was going to happen. He was so kind to everyone before leaving, he told everyone he loved them, he said good – bye to everyone… and the Daroga will never forget how he looked back at his home for that last time before entering the carriage. That's how the Daroga saw him for the last time – looking back at his beautifully built home.

Christine wasn't able to sleep any more during the night. She sat down to the sofa in the drawing room, and wept endlessly. She blamed herself for Erik's death and asked him in her mind, many times to forgive her and not to hate her for what she had done. She did not think this situation could end like this. Now what will they do without Erik? She loved Erik with all her heart, she got used to his appearance and her husband really had a good heart. He was a good husband to her, and now she will have to learn to live without him…? How she misses him already… his voice, his touch, however cold and bony it was, she learned to accept and even love it. She dragged herself to the bedroom and checked on Mahtab. She was still asleep. Christine did not want to wake her up now that she slept finally, she just lifted up the sound recording device from the table and carried it up to the music room to be as far as the bedroom as possible, not to bother her sleeping child and cranked it up to hear Erik speak. Only now when hearing his voice again, she was able to say his name between painful sobs:

\- Erik… Erik… Erik…!

She thought back at their whole life together from the very night she heard his voice for the first time, she recalled the sweet and haunting memories she held in her heart about the Phantom of the Opera, and later, Erik Spöke, her loving husband.

Morning sunlight lit the room when Erik finished reciting The Raven for the tenth time or so. Christine did not cry any more. She just sat there motionlessly, staring in the air in front of herself, trying to collect her strength to go and feed Florian at last. She still has to take care of the children, no matter what has happened. She has to stay strong and be a good mother to her children.

She tried her best to get some color into her cheeks and hide the redness of her eyes as much as possible before she went downstairs to feed and change Florian. As she held and cradled the small baby boy in her arms her tears were silently and constantly flowing down her pale face.

\- Why are you crying? – Mahtab asked with suspicion in her voice when Christine placed a plate with freshly made toast in front of her.

\- I am not crying, sweetie.

She sighed, trying to force the most sincere looking smile on her face. She did not feel strong enough to tell the news to Mahtab. Maybe later… the later she finds it out, the better… her heart would break, that tiny heart that constantly beats and aches for her beloved Papa. How could someone tell her that the Papa she is so eagerly waiting for, will never ever return? She did not know yet how and when to tell Mahtab that Erik died. She couldn't even word it yet, these words were just impossible to say yet. It is better if she just thinks that Erik was still in hospital, and maybe later she could just say Erik travelled somewhere for a time? How can a child get the concept of death anyway? She remembered she did not know and could not figure out where her mother went when she passed away. Papa tried to explain her that she was with the Angels now, but she was just waiting for her Mama to return. She knew that Mahtab will have a hard time understanding Erik's death, and this is going to be a difficult time for all of them. She could only hope that they will survive it without any serious problems.

The Daroga disappeared from the house without a word. Christine did not blame him. He must have walked home, but did not say good bye because he did not want to bother her. She understood. She wasn't even in the mood to talk to the Daroga and receive his sympathies right at that time. She wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone else but the children. Her heart ached for Erik. If only she could ever see or hear him again in her life…! Why does everyone she loves dearly have to disappear from her life so abruptly? Is this God's justice? At first, her mother, than Papa, then Papa Valerius, followed by Mama Valerius… and now… Erik? Of course, Erik was musch older than her, but she would have never believed she would lose him so fast and soon. Erik seemed to be so strong and unstoppable, like a young man. He was full of creativity and energy. And he is no more…? She can't believe it… that can't be true!

It was a reason behind Mohammed – Ismael's disappearance. The Persian, he did not even know why, but went to the hospital to see Erik for one last time. He wanted to spare Christine from the sight and the torture, but he, for some reason, wanted to see his friend once more before the funeral. Someone has to take care of paperwork and fuss about the whole ceremony anyway, and Christine sure wasn't in the right mood and state to do so. He is the man in Erik's home now as Erik asked him with his last will to take care of his family after he leaves this cruel world. He wanted to assure Erik that his children and wife will be in good hands and to say good bye to him, whether he hears it or not. As he reached the gate his heart became so heavy that he could barely breathe. He removed his cap, even before entering the building, to show respect to Erik's soul who might still be wandering around before being called.

As he told about the purpose of his visit, he was asked to wait a little in the hall of the hospital. He found this a bit of strange as people would be instantly led to the body in this case. Erik was sure still in his bed, maybe they aren't yet finished with… tidying him up…? He was sitting there patiently waiting, when a sudden nervous sentence hit his ear like thunder. It was much muffled as the male tried to talk softly, but he could hear every single word:

\- What do you mean of "disappear"…?

\- I swear to God, he is nowhere. Disappeared. – A young woman whined in horror.

\- How can he disappear…? You are telling me nonsense!

\- I tell the truth, it is just as true as I am standing right here, Doctor! I went to wash him to prepare him for the burial and he was nowhere!

\- Did you look around carefully? Maybe he just… fell out of bed?

\- He was nowhere! Not in the room, not around the room, not in the hall… not even in the lavatory.

\- But he is dead! How can he disappear, being dead?

\- I don't know! – She cried out in despair.

\- Nurse, please… don't let your imagination play a game with you. Monsieur Spöke is dead. He had no pulse and he did not breathe the last time I checked him. He passed away and he must be there in his bed, just as he was.

\- Come and see if you don't believe me!

The door next to him opened and a young nurse hurried out of it in excitement, followed by Doctor Boucher, who could not even get a breath from being so astonished. The Persian stood up and followed them without those two noticing. He was a policeman and well, old habits die hard. He didn't even have to be too careful to hide – they weren't paying attention to him. They hurried to the end of the long corridor and entered the very last room there, then after he could hear some more arguing about the missing body, then they hurried outside, ran towards him but did not notice him as he hid, and they went back to the room they were before and locked the door. He thought they even forgot about him, as they started arguing again, not even mentioning his presence. No problem, there was something to get investigated, and they would just bother. Slowly and carefully, he opened the door and walked in. The room was really empty. Not a single person was there and the silence was waking up uneasy thoughts in him. Obvious signs showed that someone used the bed not too long ago, the sheets were wrinkled, the covers slipped off to the ground, and a head's mark could be seen on the pillow. He opened the door of the nightstand, but nothing was stored there. He went to open the locker where the patients could place their belongings, and Erik's suitcase was missing as well. Not a piece of clothing was left there in the room, and save for the signs of the used bed and the bit of strange blood- smell still lingering around it could have been mistaken with an empty, never used hospital room. Contrary to the frightening ghostly experience of the whole situation, it still showed a good news.

Erik isn't dead. Or at least, he wasn't some time ago. He got up and left. But where could he go, weak from the torture of the operation, still under the effect of medication and just waking up from clinical death, with a bleeding wound in his throat? If they don't find him soon, he will really die. Without another word, he turned around as fast as he could, and ran out of the building and the gate, just as if he never visited that place. He knew that Erik should be somewhere in Paris… and he had a thought of where to find him.

The Opera House was so far away from the hospital. The other end of the city, to begin with. The Daroga just hoped Erik didn't bleed out yet, reaching his old house, as he was sure that the ex Opera Ghost retired there from the danger he survived. For the hundredth time at least, he descended to the cellars with routine – no one noticed him and he walked just as fast as he could. He could find no spots of blood on the way to the scenes of King Lahore, and nor did he find any signs of anyone being near. Maybe he was successful to get in the house? He knew that he will end up in the torture chamber and just hoped that Erik will be conscious enough to let him out. As he dropped to the floor he noticed the door to the house was open. The torture chamber wasn't closed?

\- Erik! – He called out in hope but his voice echoed through the empty rooms.

He could see nearly nothing of the old house of Erik, and it was unbearably cold down there, five cellars below the ground. The arches of Erik's home made every noise ten times louder, His footsteps were loud due to the changed acoustics of a place without any useable furniture left. He shuddered to the thought but he had to peek in Erik's bedroom that contained the coffin. Erik sure isn't feeling well and he maybe went to bed. He stepped in the room that he thought to be Erik's room of what he heard of Christine's description of the house and the directions of the sounds of his voice when he and Raoul were in the torture chamber. The door to that room was open as well and nothing but the coffin and a church organ were located in it.

\- Erik…? – The Persian called out again, then tried to catch the tiniest of noise in the dark funeral chamber.

Not a single sigh could be heard and no light flickered from those cat – eyes anywhere. The silence was choking him and so did darkness that covered him up from head to foot, like a dark cloak. Erik wasn't there. He had no idea how in the name of Allah was Erik able to live down there alone… wasn't he afraid? He ran out of the bedroom and turned his back to the door, but he did not feel comfortable with the thought of having a coffin behind his back, so he ran back to the torture chamber. Now that the machine wasn't working, maybe it would be easier to get out of there, hopefully alive.

\- Look, Mama! An ugly old vagabond!

\- Good God, Robert! Don't touch **_it_** _!_ You might catch some kind of illness! Come, we go to eat an ice cream, leave **_that thing_** alone!

He opened his eyes as he heard those scared and disgustful words of the mother, dragging the small boy away from him. He did not know how much time he spent sitting on that bench, but it seemed like a decade. Only now that he was feeling somewhat better after a long sleep, he realized he wasn't wearing his mask. Other times, it would have annoyed and worried him, but at that time, he did not really care. He did not care of anything at all. He was still a bit of sick, his throat was very sore and he was thirsty again. Maybe it is a good sign. He couldn't solve the whole puzzle about what had happened to him. He was aware of having a surgery and being in the hospital, getting very sick, but after he did not remember anything for a long time. He had some blurry and foggy memories of running through a dark corridor with all his necessities, fleeing from danger, but he could not recall anything else. One thing was sure: he had to seek medical help as he knew he wasn't going to survive for too long without a doctor. Only one person could help.

It was late afternoon when Doctor Bonsanté was sitting in front of his desk with a cup of hot tea. Contrary to it was May, the weather changed to rather chilly that night and it was raining heavily. He was doing some paperwork and opening up his letters. He got a letter from St. Germaine hospital as well, he was sure it was about Erik's surgery as none of the other patients he had were in a hospital, but Erik. As he read the letter, he gasped in horror. It was Erik's death report. He sat there, quietly for some time, listening to the knocking of the raindrops against the window, and silently blamed himself. He was the one who recommended the operation to him – and now that poor woman is left alone with two young children! If he knew that it will end up this way – he would have never said such a thing to anyone! Suddenly there were three taps on his front door. He already finished his business for the day – but of course, a doctor is a doctor. He has to go when he is needed.

As he opened the door, it was nearly him who needed medical treatment as he nearly had a heart attack upon recognizing his visitor. It was a soaked, obviously ill and weak Erik Spöke. He did not say a single word, he just stood there in the doorway, squeezing the handle of a suitcase in his right hand, nearly passing out, holding a handkerchief in front of his deformed mouth. He was paler than usual, nearly as white as bedsheets. Water was dripping from his clothing, his hair and the rim of his fedora.

\- Erik! God… - The Doctor gently took Erik's arm as he saw he was about to faint and guided him in, seating him carefully in his chair, and removed the wet hat and jacket from him. – Erik what has happened…? You should be in hospital!

To this sentence Erik lifted his head up a bit with a terrified expression, shaking his head violently. He protectively held his hands in front of his face and looked at the doctor with pleading eyes.

\- Erik, I am not allowed to treat you here… I am not a surgeon, only a family doctor.

\- They… nearly… killed Erik… - these were the first words he managed to squeeze out since the surgery, but his voice was very faint and it hurt to speak so he rather stopped it and pointed at the doctor's desk to ask for pen and paper.

\- I don't even think you should write in this state you are in, Erik. All right, you stay here, and I help you the best I can, but then you do what I say. Deal?

Erik nodded to assure the doctor of his agreement. He was led to the treatment room and asked to remove his clothes and change into nightwear. The doctor gave him some minutes of privacy to undress in peace and only when he was wearing a clean pair of pajamas and was in bed as Bonsanté ordered him, the doctor returned and started examining him.

\- What did you drink today? - He asked.

\- Nothing. – Erik moaned in pain.

\- Then you drink now, a lot. We have to keep you and the wound hydrated, if it gets too dry it can bleed more and then you know what happens. I am going to bring you a pitcher of tea and you drink it right away.

Drinking wasn't an easy task, as Erik felt with every swallowing that his throat was being sliced by a razor, but he did as he was told. Bonsanté nodded and put his hand on Erik's pale forehead.

\- You have fever. I am afraid it is either a side effect of the operation, or the worse possibility is that you are catching a cold. The weather today was nothing like you should have walked through whole Paris in, especially not freshly operated. Well, you should stay in bed, not getting up, unless it is really necessary. You have to take care of yourself. Now try to sleep. If you need something, I am here, but please don't yell. You are a singer, you know what to do with your voice, right…?

A nod came as a response and Erik lay back on his pillow, yawning. Suddenly a thought hit his nearly drifting off mind and sat up again.

\- Doctor…

\- Yes? Are you feeling sick? – The man turned around and hurried back from the door as he was just about to leave. – Please try not to vomit, it makes the wound bleed.

\- No… - Erik groaned in displeasure. He wasn't feeling sick at that moment, and it bothered him that the old damned leech isn't paying attention. – My wife… tell her I am fine… and here…

\- Oh. I was just about to do that, Erik. Don't worry.

Erik sighed in relief, lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes to finally take a rest.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter XXI.

It was unbearably dark and cold. If only he could at least figure out the place of light switches or heat the house up a bit. But no way should he investigate anything here in this deserted ghost mansion. A wrong move and the torture chamber starts, and there is no way out. Maybe even the door closes automatically, even if it is open right now. Who knows with Erik? He wasn't exactly sure how much time did he spend there already, in that dark corner, motionless. His eyes were somewhat used to the darkness that surrounded him, maybe he should very carefully try to get out of the house once again? He already tried it once, but he did not have much success, only he gained some bruises when he tripped over some stairs that led to another room and fell on his knees. This was worse than the last time he visited this horrible place. There were no light and no furniture and absolutely nothing he could find useful. Not a lantern or candle was left there to give at least some light. No food was stored anywhere and no wood or coal to use to light a fire. The only way out he knew was the upper exit in the third cellar, but how could he climb up to the rooftop to reach it? There were nothing in the torture chamber he could stand or climb up on, and even if he did, the roof was still a few meters away from that damned stone. Why, oh why did he come down here? No one will find him ever, and he is going to die of starvation, or thirst here and… wait a minute, did Erik really pack all the wine from here or is there some left? He should at least investigate and try to find Erik's wine cellar, to get something to drink if there is any. He slowly stood up and tried to walk as slowly as possible and stretch his leg out to search for steps or any kind of things laying around. It came to his mind that his father blindfolded him once when he was running around with a knife to play swordfight with a friend. He told him "See, Mohammed that is how blind people have to live. If you are not careful enough, you could become one of them. It is bad, isn't it? Be more careful, son. You only have two eyes. They are so easy to lose." It was a really horrible experience. He slowly and steadily reached to a door in front of him, and for a second, he was happy that he found the way out, but as he opened the door, it turned out to be the totally empty Louis- Philippe room. He sighed and hit the wall with his fist in frustration. He will never ever reach the surface again…

Christine was sadly cradling her tiny son in her arms when the doorbell rang. She stood up tiredly and emotionally worn out, without any sleep for two days, and dragged herself to answer the door. She wasn't properly dressed, as she did not even care about getting dressed, nor to check anything in the house, she wasn't even sure of which day it was already, and she wore her nightwear still, though it was already three in the afternoon. Not the right way to receive a visit, but in this state of mind she could care less. She was even determined to send them away as soon as possible, but when she saw who it was, she could do no such a thing. She nearly fell out of her slippers when she saw the visitor standing there on her doorstep. She expected it to be the Daroga, who finally came back after two days of absence, but it wasn't him. It was a nicely dressed and smiling Raoul de Chagny. He held a bouquet of white roses and bowed his head to Christine. Spring sunlight was playing with his blonde hair and he smiled warmly at her.

\- Raoul… how did you get here…?

\- Good morning, Christine. – His voice rang so soothingly, it was something she was seeking for since she got Erik's death report, a little emotional support and kindness. Without a word, she hugged Raoul's neck with her free hand and started crying without any explanation.

\- What is wrong, my dear? Is there something I can…

\- Come in, please… - She dried her eyes, and guided him in, sitting him down in the salon. They were just sitting together for a time, silently, Raoul could feel in the air and looking at Christine's condition that something was wrong. After some time it was the man who broke the silence and asked on a comforting tone:

\- Did someone harm you? Christine, you know that you can tell me anything. You can trust me as I am your friend. Remember I am here through thick or thin.

\- Oh Raoul… you really are… a great friend. How did you find me?

\- I wanted to visit you at the Opera last night. I haven't seen you for a time and I worried that you might have been hurt… I then heard you had another childbirth and I came to congratulate you for the baby. I can see it is just as beautiful as you are. Is it a he or a she?

\- A boy. – Christine whispered. – Erik Florian Daaé- Spöke.

\- Oh. – Raoul lowered his head. – Poor Papa Florian. But I am happy someone inherited his name.

\- He deserved it. – Christine stated softly. – And so did Erik.

\- Is he… at home? – Raoul looked around a bit nervously, being afraid that Erik might jump out of a corner suddenly and ask him about the purpose of his visit.

\- No. – She cried again.

\- Oh… did you have a fight, that is why you are so sad, Christine?

\- If only… - Christine sobbed, placing Flo down on the sofa next to her, being afraid she will drop him. Her hands were shaking. – If only we had a fight once more… what would I give for it!

\- Did he dare to leave you? – Raoul asked with disbelief.

\- Yes… he left… forever! – She hugged Raoul, sobbing, but trying her best to calm down.

\- Did he…? – Roul couldn't finish his sentence. He suddenly realized what Christine was talking about. She was left here alone with two children as a widow. He couldn't understand the reason behind it but he found out that Christine really loved Erik and now she is mourning him. – When did it happen? – He added with sympathy.

\- On 9th of May. – She murmured it softly, muffled by Raoul's coat.

\- Three days… it is too fresh yet… how are you…?

\- I don't know. The only thing I know is I am heartbroken, Raoul. I… I feel I lost a piece of my soul.

\- Is there anything I can help you with?

\- That may be too much of you to ask… but would you please stay here with the children while I am away at the hospital? I have to take care of the things… needed to be done. And I can't leave the children alone.

\- But of course! You know I love children. How is your daughter?

\- She is fine… practicing I think. Her name is Mahtab. Please… don't tell her about Erik… she doesn't know it yet.

\- I see. – Raoul nodded.

\- Raoul… I have to tell you something about Mahtab… she is… she is…

\- What is it that I don't know about, Mama?

They got startled when the high – pitched voice came from the door and they saw the small child entering the room. She was dressed as usually, like a boy, and her hands were all dirty by ink. But the inky skeletal hands weren't the things that made Raoul back away. It wasn't fear of being touched and getting dirty – it was fear of being touched at all by this little creature. The sunken, different colored eyes were examining him, just as the little living dead would be wondering where they met before. Raoul was reminded too much of that fearful father of this little skeleton, and he did not really see it as a child now. He backed away a few steps from the girl, but suddenly he realized how he was acting. This child could do nothing about who her father was. Christine knelt down to the little ugly thing and she pressed a soft kiss on her bony cheeks and said as calm as she could:

\- Papa has to stay in the hospital for some more time as he is a bit of sick still, dear. I am going to visit him now.

\- May I go with you?

\- No, dear, a hospital is no place for a small child. Please be a good girl and stay here with Monsieur Raoul until I come back.

\- I don't want to stay here with the lobster! – Mahtab whined. – I want to see Papa!

\- Mahtab don't dare to talk like this again! You will be a good girl and stay here or else I will tell Papa how disrespectful you are and he won't want to come home! – Christine yelled at the child a lot louder and more frustrated than she wanted to. She also felt sorry for threatening Mahtab with Erik's disappearance, but she did not have anything better to say all of a sudden.

Mahtab seemed to accept her reasoning and sat down to the sofa obeying, next to her baby brother who was still sleeping there peacefully. As Christine left, the girl just stared at Raoul for a time, than curiously jumped off of the sofa and walked closer. Raoul tried his best not to be afraid so much of the small corpse, but everything about her made him think of Erik. He face, her movements, her intonation when speaking, and her silent and awkward staring.

\- Ummm… so… your name is Mahtab? – He sounded rather silly but he felt he needed to talk to her about something as this silence was killing him.

\- Yes. – She nodded. – And yours?

\- I'm Raoul.

\- Are you Mama's friend?

\- Yes, I am her friend from our childhood. – Raoul smiled, thinking back at the young girl he met so long time ago.

\- And Papa's too?

\- Well, I… don't know him for that a long time. I have met him in the past once or twice. –"And it is the better like this." – He added in thought. He knew he should feel sorry for Erik's death, but the way he acted even the last time they met at the Opera, made him so upset that he could not have a nice thought about his arch enemy. He knew that neither the Daroga or Christine hated Erik, not even on that night at the Opera, but he did, from this first moment to the last.

\- I miss Papa. – She admitted after a few moments of silence and she looked around as she was searching for him in the house. – He had to go to the hospital and he isn't home yet. He promised me that he will come home soon. Did you have your tonsils removed?

\- Not yet. – Raoul answered, suddenly feeling sorry for this poor child. She can do nothing about her father's sins and personality. She seems to be a nice and smart girl, smarter than usual kids. It is obvious that Erik spent much time tutoring her. She was so sad about the absence of her Papa – a father she loved so much. If this child and Christine are both able to love Erik so much… it could at least mean something. – But I am sure it is not painful. I think your Papa is going to be home in no time. – Raoul added comfortingly.

\- I hope so. – Mahtab replied. – I don't have anyone to work on my toy with. Do you know anything about organ pipes, Monsieur Raoul?

\- Sadly nothing. – He smiled and scratched his head. – I only learned some violin when I was a boy but I wasn't too good at it.

\- Then you know anything about trains?

\- I prefer ships. – He smiled. – You know, I used to be in the army.

\- Are you a soldier?

\- I was, until… until I got injured.

\- What has happened to your hand? – She was suddenly very caring, not the weird scientific interest made her ask about it, but her compassion.

\- I was at a very cold place and… I lost some of my fingers.

He shuddered to the mere thought as he remembered back to the operation that was still hauting his memory. He would wake up at nights from terrible nightmares and sometimes his missing fingers, even though they weren't there, were in pain. Their place was in pain, to be clear. He did not think something like this was possible, but the truth was that he had terrible cramps at a spot on his body that did not even exist anymore.

\- I am sorry to hear that. – She looked up at him and Raoul knew that the girl was honest. She wasn't as mean as her father – on the contrary – she sounded like Christine. Caring, affectionate and compassionate.

\- Well, don't worry about it. – Raoul smiled and suddenly felt the urge to touch the kid. He patted her shoulder and stroke her silky blondish hair. – It is mostly all right. But now what if we looked at your train? Maybe I can figure out something.

\- All right. – Mahtab ran to her room excitedly and gestured to Raoul to follow her.

Raoul de Chagny was fascinated by the house – at least the amount he saw of it – and he had to admit that Erik was indeed a genius in architecture. Not even the de Chagny Mansion looked so brilliant. The children had a very roomy and comfortable nursery and it was decorated with a great taste. He gasped in surprise upon looking at Mahtab's bed.

\- What a nice train… - He smiled.

\- It is not a train, it is a locomotive. – Mahtab looked at him with displeasure in her voice and now he was again reminded of Erik. – Papa made it for me. – She added dreamily.

\- Can you sing? – Raoul asked suddenly, hoping to hear a sweet melody performed on Christine's voice, even if it is only a child, but he had to disappoint once more as the child shook her head and said:

\- I am not interested in singing myself. I only play music.

\- Which instruments do you play?

\- I play the piano and Papa started teaching me to play the violin as well.

She handed him a piece of Paper and a full sheet of plans. They made it together with Erik a few days back and it only needed to be completed. Raoul did not even get what he should read out of the drawings, even though he saw a train figure and some other plans of wheels and some pipes. They reminded him of a pipe organ but he hasn't seen any keyboard plans included.

\- Your Papa wants to build another pipe organ? – Raoul asked cluelessly.

\- But of course not. It is how my train is going to work. I thought you could help me build it.

\- I don't… really understand your Papa's plans. – He admitted softly, feeling as stupid as a first grader.

\- It is simple. – Mahtab stated with an unquestionable tone in her voice, imitating Erik. – I am going to explain, just pay attention. – This was also a sentence she borrowed from her father as he used it a lot with her.

She started explaining the meaning behind the plans and the mechanism they wanted to use to make the small machine work. Raoul, if it was possible at all, felt even more clueless and humiliated than before. He was sure that this little thing isn't even old enough to attend school, and still, it already knows more than he does. It was frightening from the mouth of such a tiny thing. It wasn't how it should have been. The girl frightened him and made him feel sorry at the same time.

Christine arrived back from the hospital, about two hours later, white as the wall and trembling. Raoul actually was happy for her return as he was afraid to be left alone with this dwarf Faust – corpse, even though he was ashamed of the thought. He was worried about Christine's state and guided her quickly in the drawing room, sitting her down, and gently handing her a glass of water. Christine was just half alive. She was biting her lips nervously for a time than to Raoul's growing worry and nagging, she finally started talking:

\- Raoul it is… horrible… everyone keeps disappearing… the Daroga did not come back…

\- Maybe he is just at home…

\- But Erik disappeared as well! – She cried in panic. – Erik disappeared!

\- But isn't he dead? – Raoul asked, knowing nothing about the situation and getting more and more confused.

\- I got a telegram saying he was, but as I found out now… he wasn't truly dead. They used too much drug to put him to sleep, as the doctor later solved the puzzle… and he was sleeping too deeply and his heart… seemed to stop… but he woke up… and left!

\- Where?

\- That is what we don't know… - she whispered. – The doctor says he needed more days of treatment and complications were very likely to happen… if he did not seek medical help… he might be dead by now… oh Raoul!

\- Wait, you said if he didn't seek help. – He suddenly had an idea. – But what if he did?

\- Oh… - Christine lifted her head up. – Maybe…

\- Who is his doctor? – Raoul kept asking.

\- Doctor Bonsanté is our family doctor… he has been treating Erik for decades… why didn't I think of him…?

\- You are in panic, my dear… that is why. – Raoul petted Christine's shoulder with love. – I shall take you there to check in him, you are simply not in the state of walking alone.

\- But the children…

\- I am sure they will be fine. I tidied your small son just before you arrived and he wasn't hungry I think. And Mahtab… well, how old is she?

\- Four years old.

\- Well, I am not saying it is a right thing to leave a four year – old home alone, but I think she will be fine once. Tell her to behave well and we will go and search for your Erik. Remember, we only want to make sure he was all right.

Christine nodded and slowly stood up, trying her best to collect her strength both physically and emotionally. She walked to the nursery, and caressed Flo's face in the cradle then she knelt in front of the bed where Mahtab was sitting and she examined her mother curiously.

\- What is wrong? – She asked with growing suspicion.

\- Nothing, my dear. – She forced a sincere smile on herself. – I am going to visit Papa.

\- I want to go as well! – She jumped off of the bed with sudden happiness, and ran to her dresser to pull out the drawer to find her coat.

\- No, sweetie, you have to stay here. Please be a good girl, and don't do anything silly. All right? Please promise me you two will be safe.

\- Why can't I go with you? – Mahtab whined with disappointment.

\- Because Papa isn't well enough to see so many people yet. – She made up a quick, but still believable lie.

\- He is very sick?

\- Not very sick, just tired. – Christine tried to comfort and assure the child about everything is going to work out in the end, as she hoped in her heart.

\- Tell him I miss him. And to feel better soon. – Mahtab sighed and nodded with agreement, climbing back on her bed.

\- I will. – Christine placed a gentle kiss on Mahtab's forehead, and she left the room.

As she left the house with Raoul supporting her while walking, she looked back once more, with a heavy heart. Her eyes were filled with tears and she just felt Raoul gently guiding her towards the gate.

Mahtab was so afraid being left alone with her brother in the house without any of her parents. She could not even recall a time when she was totally home alone. Why everyone keeps leaving her? At first Papa left, then Tonton Mohammed left, and now Mama…? Papa… how very much she misses Papa! To ease her sadness and fear, she started talking to Flo. She was chanting some nursery rhymes she learned from Erik, and softly rocking the cradle. She wasn't yet tall enough for that process and she had to stand on the sole of the cradle to be able to rock it by her own weight.

As the front door opened, Shadow was running towards it, barking and howling happily. Mahtab did not know what has happened and she was just hoping that someone at least arrived home. The door was opened by keys as she heard the rattling sound a few seconds before, and she knew it was because some of her relatives arrived back. She wanted to jump off of the sole to investigate the issue, but her shoe got stuck and she just fell – it hurt. But not as much as the weight of the cradle that hit her back with a sudden force. She started screaming of pain and horror, and she could hear footsteps getting closer to the room.

Flo was laying on the ground, crying from the top of his lungs, and Mahtab was laying under the fallen cradle, crying as well from the top of her lungs. That was the sight that Erik's eyes met upon arriving home. He jumped to the cradle as quickly as he could, lifting it off of the screaming child, kneeling down to see if any of the children were all right. Flo only seemed to be scared of falling out of bed and as he examined the baby, he did not find a broken bone or injury, so he just soothingly cradled him in his arms. Mahtab stopped crying when she realized it was her beloved Papa at home finally, so she wanted to jump up to hug him, but she felt pain while trying, so she did not try it any more, just lay there, still sniffing.

\- Don't try to get up, please. – Erik ordered, but his voice was calm, so Mahtab didn't feel so terrified any more. Papa's voice was kind of different – softer and more husky than usual.

\- My leg hurts. – She sniffed again.

\- All right, let Papa see it, will you?

Erik needed much effort to calm himself down enough to be able to speak calmly to the children. He knew if he was upset it would just cause the little ones to get more frightened. As he gently lifted the little girl on his lap he instantly found out what the problem was: Mahtab's ankle got broken. He was searching for other traumas on her body and she complained about feeling pain in her back and chest as well. Thankfully no sign of broken ribs could have been found, as Erik was checking her carefully, more and more times, so he just assumed Mahtab got some bruises because of the accident. Flo was totally healthy, thank Heaven. Erik wiped his sweaty forehead after taking care of her daughter and putting her to bed. Only then he had the time and opportunity to ask what has happened.

\- Why you two are alone? Where is Mama?

\- She went to visit you with Monsieur Raoul. – Mahtab replied.

\- Monsieur… who? – Erik's cat – eyes narrowed suspiciously.

\- Raoul.

No doubt the child said that exact name, he heard it right. At first he imagined only his tortured mind was making a fool of him. But no. Well, that is why she isn't home. She left with that young man. He felt it was better if Mahtab didn't notice his uneasy thoughts, so he tried to focus on something else. He stroke the child's tiny skull face with his thumb, softly speaking to her some sentences to calm her and when she finally fell asleep, he got up from the edge of the locomotive- shaped bed, and wandered out to the Hall. He thought it will be best if he starts to tidy things up a bit as he saw there was no one to clean up for some time and he hated chaos and mess. His face was a mess enough, his home at least should be immaculate.

He found two letters laying around, the first one was on the end table in the hall, and the second one just laying around on the floor, neglected. It was addressed by Dr. Bonsanté's shaky handwriting and was unopened. He opened it to run through it, but it was what he thought it was – the doctor's letter to Christine in which he told her about Erik's how and whereabouts. But if she did not open it, why did she tell Mahtab she was going to visit him? Of course, she couldn't know that he was released to go home this afternoon, with the doctor's warning not to overstrain himself and he was strongly advised to get bed rest and fluid intake as much as possible. Maybe she did not even have in mind to visit him, but go to have fun with Chagny? The second letter was a telegram, it was opened and read. As he read it he nearly fainted – those idiots sent Christine his death report! He did not even know about this. He saw some drops of dried tears on the paper and he instantly knew that Christine grieved him actually. He did not know how and why de Chagny get in the picture, but he now couldn't imagine Christine spending a great evening with Raoul.

He was actually astonished how calm he was. His old self now would be furious, throwing things, breaking breakable object, causing a catastrophe all over the house and swear to God that he will both kill the unfaithful woman and so the young man, but such feelings weren't in his heart at that time. He was worried. He decided if Christine returns he will be gentle with her, and won't throw a tantrum – it will be a big enough shock for Christine to see him here, alive. Even his anger about Mahtab's accident started to fade. He made some hot tea and changed to nightwear again. He wasn't feeling too well yet, he was a bit weak. Doctor Bonsanté only let him home because he became too impatient to treat in the doctor's office and he just told Erik: "All right, go home as I am sure you will heal up more quickly with your family, but don't overstrain your body or your voice. Sleep and drink as much as you can." He decided to listen to advices given to him more than he did before. The Daroga told him that if he acted like he did at the Opera, he was going to lose Christine. He shouldn't make mistakes if he wants his family to stay together in love. It would be a wiser move just to wait and see how Christine reacts to his homecoming – and after the reaction, he could make the decision that hurts everyone the least.

Suddenly he heard people talking outside so he snuck to the window to see what was happening. He stood as he was covered by the drapes but he was able to see and hear everything perfectly. The couple outside was Christine and Raoul de Chagny.

\- I told you I was going to be fine, Raoul. – She said faintly.

\- I had to accompany you home. It is late and you are so weak. I worry about you.

\- I know, my friend.

"Friend? That is good to hear."- Erik thought to himself and leaned a bit closer not to miss a single word from the conversation. Damn they were talking so softly he could hardly hear it not even by his perfect hearing.

\- Christine, are you sure you don't need me here with you?

\- I am sure Erik is here.

\- What if he isn't? – He kept going on. – Do you really want to stay all alone with two children?

\- I am not alone. You just told I have two children with me, even if Erik isn't home. But he should be, if not by now, but he sure arrives home tonight. The doctor said he left to come home. What else would he do? I know he will be here. And I am happy about it. I can't wait to finally see him again.

\- All right, Christine, but if you need me… you know where to find me.

\- I do.

\- Good night, Christine.

The boy leaned closer to Christine and wanted to kiss her on the lips but the woman turned her head away, lifting her hand in front of her face protectively. Erik felt indescribable triumph upon seeing this.

\- Good night, Raoul. – She said, then walked through the gate and headed to the front door.

As she entered the house, she saw Erik's suitcase placed down next to the door and that made her so excited and happy that she couldn't control her emotions. All of the untold sentences, the tears came to the surface and she ran to the drawing room to search for her husband. She couldn't see him there though and she just stood there, unsure of if the suitcase in the Hall was real or just a dream.

\- I am here. – She heard a so dear and sweet and so much missed male voice behind her back. She turned around and saw Erik, her beloved husband, standing in the doorway, dressed in a pair of pajamas and a smoking jacket.

\- Erik! – She cried out in happiness and ran to him, suddenly leaping into his arms. Erik was surprised and very touched of the unexpected wave of Christine's emotions, but giving it some thought, it was something to be expected. – Oh, Erik… I missed you so much… - she stuttered between sobs of relief.

\- Erik missed his beloved Christine as well. – He smiled warmly, now being a hundred percent sure that he had nothing to be afraid of about the boy and Christine.

\- Your voice… - Christine lifted her head in surprise.

\- What's with it? – Erik asked cautiously.

\- It isn't as it was.

\- Well… I think it can be expected… three days ago someone was digging in my throat by a scalpel. It will, I hope, get better with time.

\- I mean it just got better I think. You sound… even more angelic than before.

\- Oh… Christine just maybe did not hear Erik's voice in a long time and she missed Erik, that's why she thinks so.

\- Didn't you notice it changed?

\- No, Erik haven't spoken much since the surgery. He tried his best to take care of his vocal chords.

\- I missed your voice.

\- That is why you listened to "The Raven" in my performance?

\- Yes. – She nodded. – I thought that was the only thing left for me of you. I don't even have a photograph or not even a painting of you, Erik…

\- What a loss it must be… - He let out a sarcastic little chuckle, but his throat felt a bit of uncomfortable.

\- Does it still hurt, my angel? – His dear beloved wife asked with concern. It caressed Erik's soul.

\- A bit. I am on painkillers, which is how I handle it. The doctor said it is maybe one more week and I get healed. I have to go back to him for a checkup in three days.

\- I hope everything is well.

\- I am sure it is.

\- Why did you run away from the hospital… Erik dear…?

\- I don't know, I felt myself in danger and I felt sick.

\- Were you very ill?

\- I was feverish. Just today it went down. That is why I am home.

\- Thank God…

Erik hugged Christine close to himself and started crying softly, knowing that his wife is the best wife on Earth. She loves him so much and worries about him so much… But Christine looked up at him with a bit of uncomfortable expression. There came the subject they still had to talk about.

\- Erik… did you see Raoul with me? – She asked softly.

\- I did. – He nodded. – I am glad someone was here with you in these hard times. That is actually what Erik wanted. He would never leave you here alone with so much trouble.

\- Do you… mean it?

\- I do, Christine.

\- Aren't you jealous of Raoul?

\- Why should I be? – He laughed. – You love Erik more. You have proven it.

\- Oh Erik… you have changed. A lot.

\- Erik just can hope it is for the better.

\- It is. – She kissed his cheeks with love.

\- Wait… I left you here with the Daroga. – Erik's eyes widened in surprise. – Where is he?

\- He left the morning after we got your death report and never returned.

\- It… it is not how he would act.

\- Maybe he just went home.

\- No, he would never leave you unattended in trouble, I know him. He must be in danger…. I shall search for him.

Erik kissed Christine's forehead and asked her to take care of themselves then he hurried to the bedroom to change into something he could leave the house in.

\- Erik, are you crazy? – She gasped. – You are sick and you just came home, don't leave me!

\- I will be back soon. I think I know what has happened. – He hurriedly put on his jacket and ran through the front door.

\- Erik!

Christine cried for one last time before she finally fainted on the hallway floor.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter XXII.

\- This place creeps me out, Erik. – The other man stated with a noticeable amount of discomfort and displeasure in his voice. – Are you aware that you literally dragged me out of bed? This place is damp and dark and you absolutely shouldn't be here in your current condition…. Erik…? Do you want to develop a fever and go back to the hospital, you crazy human? You have just received a surgery. And you should not lift as heavy things as I am. Would you put me down at last?

A sudden thud could be heard, then a painful whine and some muffled cussing.

\- I did not exactly mean that by putting me down… and I can see nothing here… where are you? Oh… all right, I can feel your grip Erik, there is no need to squeeze my wrist this strongly. And why won't you reply, at least?

\- Exactly you were the one who told me to be quiet to heal my voice, were you not?

\- I know, but why on Earth did you take me here? Especially with such a questionable politeness.

\- I told you already that someone is here who most likely needs your services.

The doctor was grumpy, afraid, and sleepy. When Erik banged the door on him maybe an hour ago or so, he did not even know what the Hell he wanted again. But at that moment he started to get very much worried. He knew Erik's temper and he already showed him a bit of it when he just dragged him outside in his nightwear and mercilessly threw him in a coach in front of his office. In his nightshirt he felt like Ebenezer Scrooge who was being dragged through whole London by a ghost.

\- Where the Hell are we anyway?

\- In the cellars of the Opera House.

\- What?

\- I know you don't like music. Don't worry. You don't have to listen to any opera.

\- But where are we going? What are we doing here..?

\- I am leading you to my… old… place. – Erik sighed.

\- Did you use to live here? – The doctor gasped, gesturing around with his free hand in disgust.

\- I did. – Erik nodded.

\- But you gave me an address to reach you at… it was…

\- 8 Rue Scribe. Yes. It is actually the address where I lived at that time – the Opera Garnier.

\- How were you able to live at such a place? No wonder I had to cure you from various cases of the flu, cold, pneumonia, tonsillitis….

\- Don't talk about tonsils! I am fed up with them and my ear hurts again.

\- I told you it is something that will happen. Especially that you should be covered up with a warm blanket in your bed and drink tea…

\- Erik used to like tea, but he swears he won't EVER drink it again once he recovers from this stupid illness. You made me drink at least five liters of it per day. – He sighed, then crawled to the wall to press the stone that leads them to the torture chamber finally.

\- What are you doing? Did you leave? – Bonsanté asked with sudden alarm.

\- Shut your face and climb in here.

\- I won't fit.

\- You will.

\- I won't! I am not as skinny as you are.

\- You always talk to people about the usefulness of diets. Seems like you should be on a diet yourself.

\- Seems like your throat isn't as much paiiiiii- ERIK!

The doctor landed on the floor of the Torture Chamber after the Opera Ghost finally got fed up with his constant whining, and well, to be exact – "helped" the poor doctor down with a forceful push. Some seconds later another body arrived down to the floor and finally the room was lit. Erik did not want the doctor to look around in his special forest, so he caught his hand again and pulled him to the main salon.

\- Wait here. – He ordered shortly, then walked around the abandoned rooms to search for that awful, nosy Persian cop.

He finally saw the Daroga, laying on his side, facing the wall in the once known Louis- Philippe room. He rushed to the Daroga, bending down and slightly turning him on his back to examine if he was still alive at all. Those jade green eyes got fixed on Erik, as he just realized who touched him, then the Persian blinked, and sighed in relief.

\- I knew…I knew…

\- What did you know, Daroga? – Erik's voice sounded so soothing… so compassionate… so caring… kind.

\- That you… are alive… and I… will… find you.

He closed his eyes and his head fell back in Erik's arm.

The doctor arrived in the room after Erik's desperate attempt to call for him. Erik wasn't really in the condition of yelling through rooms, and his voice sounded just as a pitiful whisper, but thankfully, Bonsanté wasn't too far from them. He knelt down to the Daroga and examined him carefully. Some minutes later, when he finished, he looked up at Erik, who was also acting strange. He folded his arms around himself, as he was freezing with cold. Yes, the place was chilly and the doctor could also feel the numbing sensation of the cool stone and air around his body, but he was concerned that Erik wasn't feeling cold only because of the weather down in the cellars.

\- Erik, are you all right? – He leaned closer.

\- Fine. – He nodded quickly, but his teeth chattered with a shiver running down his spine.

\- Erik, come closer. – The doctor ordered strictly.

The Ex- Opera Ghost leaned closer with a sigh, knowing there was no use to argue with the leech in such a situation – he had to admit that Bonsanté was a true careful doctor – he was always examining everyone. He felt a hand against his forehead, and closed his golden eyes for a second.

\- What I said? – The doctor groaned. – You are fiery hot again.

\- Don't care about me, but the Persian cop… Erik is fine.

\- No, he isn't. We need to get out of here. It is freezing cold here and you should not catch a cold, remember. We need to carry him away from here.

\- Erik knows a way out where no one will see us. Are you sure… the Daroga is well enough to be moved?

\- He will be fine. – The doctor nodded. – He is dehydrated and his body temperature is a bit low, but we seem to arrive in time.

Erik sighed in relief. To tell the truth, he wasn't feeling too well at that moment. He had the chills, and his throat and ear were bothering him. He was weak and could only stagger in front of the doctor, and did not even remember how they got outside. When they reached the surface, Erik leaned against a column in front of the main entrance of the Opera to support his weight, and stood there for some minutes. The doctor, who carried the Daroga in his arms, dressed in only a nightshirt, saw that Erik could not bear his sickness any longer. He knew people will laugh at him if he runs to fetch a cab in this kind of clothing, but he could care less.

Erik sat down on the stairs, as he was too weak to stay standing. Not a good sign at all. He leaned his back against a column and stroke his throbbing and sweaty forehead, when someone stopped and stood in front of him. Erik assumed him to be the doctor at first, but he suddenly noticed that this person wore boots instead of the leech's slippers.

\- What are you doing here? – A deep and very strict voice asked above his head.

Erik looked up. He wasn't able to reply as his throat was killing him. His glowing yellow eyes met a figure of a tall and overweight, very elegant and strict policeman. The brave and honorable man wore a thick mustache and looked at him with sudden disgust, just as he was a rat from the very sewers, covered in human feces and fleas.

\- Another one? – He thundered as he grabbed Erik by the shirt collar. – Didn't you know that ugly filthy drunken clochards aren't allowed to sleep here on the stairs of the Opera? This building, you **_thing_** , is for the tax- payers who want to listen to music! –

Erik did not fight. He couldn't. He felt too weak and his body was burning with fever. He could not speak. But even if he was able to do so, what would be the use of it? The policeman would most certainly won't believe him if he told he was a retired architect, and actually a former taxpayer with a remarkable knowledge in many fields. As the policeman lifted him up, he could only get stretched out and lift his hands in front of his face to protect his head from sure coming hits. He instantly knew why he was dragged up from the stairs so violently – he still wasn't wearing a mask. He forgot to pick one up as he ran away so abruptly from home, and he sat down on a too crowded place. If he wore his human face mask made of rubber, he would have just been left alone, or even asked if he was all right, but like this, no one cared if he was feeling well or not. His obviously poor state of health worried the policeman enough to release Erik as fast as possible, and not to touch him too much, as he would most certainly catch a serious illness from this vagabond – maybe it has leprosy, that is why its nose is missing! Just look at those horrid sunken eyes… and they seem to be yellow… might even be touching this… thing… could make him sick. He just sent a hateful glance towards Erik, and thundered:

\- Get away from here, or I will be obliged to arrest you for vagabondage! –

The authority released Erik's shirt and as the poor creature reached the ground on his knees and tried his best to lift his weight up from the stairs and walk away, the respectable guard of order got tired of him being so slow, he helped Erik down with a very well – angled and forceful kick on the rear. Poor Erik landed on his hands and knees again, at the bottom of the steps, with hurting palms, knees and bottom. He did not even try to get on his feet again as he knew he was too weak for that at the moment, just climbed away, like a miserable stray dog. His hat hit his back, thrown at him from full force, and he could hear a nasty laugh. He just lay down a few meters away, out of the honorable man's sight, and finally, out of his mind as well. He would never lay on the ground on the streets, like a real homeless, but at that time, he felt too weak to search for a bench to rest. The policeman did not follow Erik to torture him any longer, surely he got tired of it and it was enough of fun for the night. That damned thing sure walked away with delight, to have dinner in a fancy restaurant – feeling very content about showing the way to behave to a vagabond. And Erik, the poor old thing, was happy to get away with so little torture this time. He pressed his head against the ground, so the pavement will at least cool his blood a bit until he feels better to stand up and walk. He closed his eyes and took a deep sigh.

He did not even have blurry memories of what had happened later, but the one sure thing was he regained his clear mind within warm and peaceful surroundings. That was something he was very thankful for. As he looked around, he recognized his home's bedroom, and sighed in relief. He was laying in his Louis- Philippe sleigh bed, on his usual side, with a damp cloth on his forehead. The end table next to him, contained various bottles of medicine, syringes, needles and a big bowl of water. He felt a touch on his face, s nice little hand stroke his cheek, and a relieved soft soprano voice whispered:

\- Are you feeling better, my little husband?

\- Yes, I am. – He nodded faintly.

\- You slept for so long. – She added worriedly.

\- How long?

\- Nearly 36 hours. The doctor had to give your medicines using a syringe as we couldn't wake you up.

\- I was tired. – Erik admitted. – And sick.

\- Here is a hospital. – Christine laughed tiredly.

\- Hospital? – Erik tilted his head to the side.

\- Yes, we are full of ill people. Mahtab is having a cast for a broken ankle, Tonton Mohammed is in our guest room with a bad case of cold and here is my poor little husband with a complicated tonsil surgery.

\- And how is my son?

\- He is doing great. Only he and I are healthy here right now.

\- Please make sure to sleep and rest enough, Christine. I don't want you to get sick of exhaustion. And you have to feed Flo as well. You will run out of milk if you overstrain yourself.

\- Don't worry, Erik dear. The doctor is helping me a lot. He is checking on everyone regularly.

\- How long Erik has to stay in bed?

\- Only for a few more days. But he will tell you when he comes back in the afternoon. Erik… why do you have bruises on your knees, did you fall?

\- How do you know I have them, Christine? – Erik asked suspiciously.

\- I noticed them when I changed you to pajamas.

\- Did you remove Erik's pants?

\- I had to. – She apologized quickly. – You can't sleep in bed in a suit, my dear…

\- Erik hates when someone else removes his pants other than himself.

\- But I am your wife, Erik, why are you still so bashful in front of me?

\- Not bashful, but proud. – He chuckled softly. – He hates to depend on others. He likes to be able to take care of himself.

\- But I love to take care of you. Only the problem is you don't let me.

\- There are two people already for you to look after. – Erik smiled. – How many of them should Erik still father so you will be at least happy by the number of protégés?

\- As many as possible. – Christine teasingly poked Erik's side, then blew him a kiss before leaving to the nursery to check on her children.

Thankfully, Erik's little trip to rescue the Daroga did not backfire too much regarding Erik's health. He did not catch a cold, simply was suffering of the side effects of healing from the operation. His ear and throat were hurting less day by day and finally, after a week of taking bed rest most of the time, he was proclaimed to be healthy again. He was so happy he could have caught a bird. The Daroga recovered as well, and was helping Christine to nurse the children with joy. There was awhile since he held a baby boy in his arms, and Florian reminded him of his small child once. He cradled Flo in his arms and smiled at him, and he was touched to see the small baby smiling back at him. He loved Mahtab as she was indeed a sweet little girl with a good heart – but he had to admit with shame deep down his heart that Flo was a much more pleasant sight.

A very surprising side effect of the operation still remained, though. Erik thought at first that his voice only changed due to the fact of the surgery and it will get back to normal within time. But after two more weeks passed since his recovery, he had to face that his voice changed permanently. To be clear, it did not even "change", but "returned", as he worded it. He had a higher pitched and clearer voice when he was younger, but as he reached 45 or so, it started to get a huskier and darker layer to it that would not go away. He assumed it to be the side effect of growing older, and did not give much thought to it, as his voice was still angelic and beautiful, but now, after the surgery, he had to realize that he got back his old voice. It wasn't changing because of age, but because of his constant illnesses he did not even always notice. Christine could not have enough of Erik's "new" voice, as she did not yet hear it before. She was astonished by the beauty of her husband's crystal clear and somewhat higher tone, and would constantly nag him to speak or read to her.

\- If only you had this voice at the Opera… - She sighed dreamily.

\- The old one was enough to seduce you for a life as well. – Erik laughed. – And, moreover, Erik still can surprise you like this.

\- Sing. – She looked in his eyes with passion. – Please sing.

\- Well, what Erik gets if he does, eh? – He winked naughtily.

\- Nothing. – She smiled.

\- Nothing…? Why? – He gasped with surprise.

\- Because you told me once that I should not sing for a reward, but for the joy of it.

\- But it is exactly the case, my dear Christine, I am singing for the joy of it as well…

\- Oh, you…, you… - Christine laughed and kissed Erik's forehead with love.

\- See, that's what I meant. – He grinned.

When he sang, he could make Christine melt with delight, even more so than earlier. He did not really understand why, as he thought the change was actually quite minor – his voice just became a bit higher while speaking, but his singing range did not get effected at all, if he had to describe it. He could not even always notice it, but well, one's voice sounds different when others listen to it than yourself – maybe they can hear it better.

Mahtab was very happy to have Papa home and healthy finally. When she was allowed near Erik, she would climb up on his lap, even with her sore ankle. Pain did not seem to bother her too much. Other children would whine about it all day, but Mahtab only rarely stated that her ankle was bothering her. Even then she did not scream or whine, she just used a casual tone as Erik did if he was asked about such a thing. Christine was astonished about a four year- olds incredible self- restraint. She was happy about it, but also found it to be unnatural for such a young age. She looked like "Tiny Tim" from Dickens's novel, with her boy clothes and wobbling around the house. No matter how she was asked or ordered to, she would not stay in bed, or at least, still. She did not let her injury take over her everyday life and habits. The only thing she needed help with were stairs. Either Erik or Christine had to carry her up or downstairs, but she lived as she did before. But not only was the extreme level of handling pain unusual about Mahtab. She was turning to be too precocious. Christine knew that it was because Erik taught her things she was yet too young for yet, and she held some unpleasant feelings about it. She sometimes felt unneeded and too simple minded compared to Erik, but now, yet even Mahtab seemed to be smarter than her. A tiny girl that yet should play all day, spent her time by discussing mechanical and musical matters with her father, planning, drawing structures and helping to assemble gears and all other things Christine did not even know the identity of. Mahtab was able to tighten loose screws, hammer nails in and use pliers not much before her fourth Birthday. She was also good at playing the piano, she already played easy Mozart and Bach minuets, and Erik made her practice fingering and scales using the first volume of Czerny etudes. She was a "bearable" beginner violinist according to Erik, yet he added that Mahtab was more capable of learning the piano skills than violin. Christine didn't like the fact that Erik seemed to make a child prodigy out of an ordinary girl, that Mahtab was treated as rather a tiny adult than a child in her father's eyes, and that fact made Erik hold up expectations towards his daughter. Not that she couldn't be good enough to make Erik happy – on the contrary, she was too good. She was too smart for her age – and it never means anything good.

The mother was also worried by Mahtab's refusal of leaving the house with her. She would gladly follow Erik anywhere, but not her. She did not hate her Mama – on the contrary, she loved her so much- she just refused to go anywhere outside with her. She went to the Opera with her a few times when she was younger, but not anywhere else, and just walking around the city was impossible as she would just stand at the garden gate, then turn over and run back in the house. As she got all healed and the doctor finally removed her cast after a few weeks, Christine would have loved to take Mahtab for a walk – just the two of them, mother and daughter, but she would rather chose to practice on the piano. Christine worded this fear to Erik, who just shook his head sadly and sighed:

\- Christine, what do you expect of her…? It was something to be prepared of.

\- Does she still remember that day? – Christine nearly cried of self – loathing.

\- You can never know. – He shrugged. – But I think I have an idea. There is a place where she would follow you, I think.

\- What is that?

\- The railway station. – Erik explained. – She adores trains, and visits the station with me once every week, as you know. Maybe she will go with you as well. Erik will stay at home with Flo the next Saturday and you shall take her to see the locomotives. She will adore you for that move.

\- You are right again. – Christine hugged him happily.

\- As always. – Erik nodded gracefully.

On Saturday Christine was even more excited about going for a walk than Mahtab. She wanted to dress Mahtab nicely in a very beautiful dress, so she will at least resemble a girl, but Mahtab did not touch the dress that was put on her bed, but arrived downstairs in a jacket and shorts with tie. She did not even know Mahtab had a tie.

\- Oh dear, why are you wearing these clothes…? We are going for a walk, you know.

\- I know, that is why I put my finest clothes on.

\- Why are you wearing a tie?

\- Because a true gentleman never leaves the house unless he is dressed properly.

\- Who said that?

\- Papa did.

\- But you are not a gentleman…

\- Not yet, but I will grow up to be one.

\- No, Mahtab, you are… a girl!

\- I know, but no one else does. And I prefer to be a boy.

Christine did not want to argue anymore and just held the child's hand, and guided her outside. The first milestone was passed easily, Mahtab walked out of the garden gate proudly in her suit, jumping up and down next to Christine.

When they reached the railway station, Mahtab did what she loved to do the most – looking at the trains with delight, examining the machines. Suddenly she turned to her Mama and asked:

\- Mama, will we go on a ride?

\- Ride?

\- Yes, by a train.

\- Oh, no, dear… I am afraid, not.

\- Why?

\- Because you are too small for that.

\- Papa says it is dangerous. Why is it dangerous?

\- Because… trains are very fast.

\- I like if they are.

\- Just be a good girl, and …

\- Boy.

\- Oh… be a good boy and… stay here…

\- But I want to go by train. No one lets me go by train. Not Papa and not even you.

\- Just listen to us dear. There is no need to go by them. Where would you want to travel…?

\- It is not about the travelling, but sitting on a train.

\- It looks better on the outside. – Christine patted Mahtab's head. – Trust me.

Suddenly a familiar male voice greeted them from behind.

\- Bonjour Christine! Um… hello… Mahtab…?

\- Yes. – Mahtab nodded, not understanding why this Raoul never seems to remember her name.

\- Oh Bonjour Raoul! What are you doing here? – Christine turned around in surprise.

\- I have to travel to Lyon on Monday and I decided to buy my ticket in the week – end when only a few people are around. And you?

\- We are here for the exact same reason… I mean, because of the very few people. Mahtab loves trains and it is a family program that she watches them with Erik or me.

\- I am surprised about… you… dare to… - He suddenly fell silent as he kenw well that he would hurt Christine much if he finished the sentence and it was the last thing he wanted to do, but Christine wasn't a stupid little woman. She understood well what that sentence was about and she gave a very much hurt look to Raoul.

\- You, Monsieur wanted to ask about how I dare take her to public places like the Opera and a railway station. – She stated unobtrusively.

\- I didn't mean it like that, but… People might be cruel and…

\- I am able to protect my child from any danger, Raoul. – She turned her head away to wipe some tears from the corner of her eyes.

\- I am sorry, Christine…

\- Mahtab dear, please, we should go home… - She looked down to the child's direction and wanted to take her hand, but she was terrified to find out that she wasn't there. – Raoul… have you seen Mahtab? – She asked with horror.

\- She was here some minutes ago…

\- I know but…

\- Look, Mama! – They heard a child's voice from a distance. - Look, it isn't dangerous at all! You weren't right!

Yes. No doubt, Mahtab was standing on the backside balcony of a train a few lines away, clapping happily.

\- Mahtab! Get off right away! – Christine cried while she started running towards the train. Suddenly a pips could be heard, and the train with Mahtab onboard started to leave the station with loud whiff.

\- Whoohooo! – The child exclaimed happily, grabbing the railing in front of her.

\- Mahtab! Get off! Get off at the next station! Do you hear me! Mahtab!

Christine and Raoul were running along the line next to the train that got faster and faster, and finally it outpaced the worrying mother, and there was no use of running any more. Mahtab's hair and jacket were blown around by the rate of march, and suddenly the silk "mask" that covered her face was grabbed off of her head and flew away with the wind. Mahtab never felt such a freedom and such a bliss before. She tasted the sweet flavor of lack of parental control, and could do what she loved the most – exploring something she adored. She did not have the slightest amount of fear. Christine, after running so much she could not handle it any longer, collapsed on her knees in the middle of the road, wheezing, and trembling with nervousness. The blissful cries of Mahtab could still be heard for some seconds then Christine was only able to scream:

\- Mahtab!


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter XXIII.

It was taking forever while Christine and Monsieur de Chagny finally investigated where that train went which Mahtab climbed up on. The line from which it left and telling the approximate hour of the departure made it clear that the train was heading to Marseilles. Christine nearly fainted again upon hearing where her 4 year old daughter is travelling at the moment. Raoul gently guided Christine to his carriage and sat her in, and told the driver to go to Dijon. It was the next main station where the train would stop for a higher amount of time, leaving enough opportunity for Mahtab to get off of the train safely. They hoped she will do so. The horses were nagged to go as fast as they can, so they were able to arrive to the destination earlier than the train most likely would. Christine was all silent, and so was Raoul. This wasn't a situation where they had much urge to talk. Christine was blaming herself in her mind, and worried about Mahtab. What if she falls off of the train? What if she gets in danger? Is she safe? Is she healthy? Isn't she too scared? Why did she not hold the child's hand…? If only she would have been more careful!

The small girl was curious about the train's inner looks as well so she eventually wandered inside the last wagon. It was furnished with wooden benches and it was dark and a foul air in there. Choking and smoky. Noise was coming from all directions. Chit- chatting or singing, or even fighting. Males and females were sitting on the benches, looking out of the window or just staring in front of themselves, chewing on something or smoking pipes or cigarettes. Mahtab had never saw cigarettes before. Papa smoked cigars sometimes, but he would send her away if he did so. A funny man was blowing smoke circles out of his mouth and this entertained Mahtab very much. The people did not seem to notice her at first, they were too much occupied by their thought, or quarreling with each other to pay attention to a newcomer. She was able to examine the crowd in peace. There was a younger boy, about 12-14 years old, who sat in one of the corners, playing on a strange wind instrument. It was small, and made of some kind of iron. Mahtab instantly was heading to him to ask him about the name of the thing and if she was allowed to, borrow the thing for a time. The boy suddenly gasped in horror as the small girl approached him and dropped the thing out of his hands, which gave out a sound while hitting the ground. Mahtab picked it up, and started examining it with growing interest.

\- Give it back. – The boy ordered, when he regained his bravery.

\- No. – Mahtab simply answered, then blew some in the holes that were on the front side of the instrument. She instantly found out it was tuned in C major.

\- Give it back, you little monster! – The boy yelled. – This disgusting thing is a thief! Help!

More people stood up from their places and went to check on the boy who was yelling from the top of his lungs about some kid is trying to play his goddamned harmonica.

\- Shu your face, you moron! That child is a baby. He just wants to play. Aren't you ashamed, being so jealous?

\- Tell his parents to take him away from here! I am afraid of him! – The boy prayed.

\- What the Hell is your- Mon Dieu! – A man suddenly saw Mahtab's face from the crowd and pointed at her in utter disgust and horror. – Yuck! Devil's face!

More and more people noticed the child's features, who simply did not understand what was going on, she just stopped trying out the instrument and stood there, silently glancing around. Screams, gasps and cries could be heard as the passengers noticed that deformed small child, and suddenly the boy wasn't a jealous spoiled little brat in their eyes, but a poor victim of Satan himself.

Things escalated quickly. A man grabbed the surprised child by the collar and held it up high. She got so scared about being dragged up so violently but she did not have too much time to wonder about what was going to happen as she got an enormous slap in the next moment, followed by another, and a third one in a row.

\- Don't hit it, it might be dangerous! Maybe you will get a curse falling on you or your family…

Mahtab got terrified. Why are they hurting her? She did nothing… People started to think out loud about what should happen to her.

\- Give it to the police!

\- Kill it!

\- Throw it out of the window!

\- Call an exorcist or priest!

\- Simply get rid of it!

\- But what about my harmonica?

\- Don't touch it!

\- Don't release it!

Mahtab gasped in horror. She did not dare to talk, only she knew she had to run. She did not understand the concept of running for her life, but she knew deep down in her heart that she had to run unless she wanted to wait something terrible happen. Various words were echoing in her ears as people were saying them: disgusting, devil, monster, Satan, hazardous, infection, corpse…

She suddenly slipped out of her jacket and before the man who only stuck there with holding the small jacket in the middle of the crowd could notice anything, she ran out of the wagon as fast as she could. She found herself in another wagon, but this one was less crowded, there were only some people sitting on red plush seats and she did not make the same mistake as she did before of drawing attention on herself – she just climbed under a pair of seats, and hid so close to the wall that no one could see her. She hugged her knees and stuck her chin between them and tried to calm down and figure out what had happened, and come up with a solution. She was too young to think of a good plan, and eventually just ended up doing what such a tiny girl could do in this situation- cry.

\- I don't understand. They should be home for at least an hour.– Erik walked up and down in circles in the drawing room, and glanced nervously at the Daroga who held Flo in his arms, softly talking and giggling to him. He just wanted to visit his friend and they were spending the afternoon, playing chess and taking care of Florian together.

\- Erik, they might be just enjoying themselves, you told yourself that Mahtab adores trains and can watch them for hours.

\- I don't know, Daroga, I have apprehension. They are gone for 3 hours. Something isn't right, I know it.

\- Erik, if it calms you down, just go to the railway station, and see if they are all right. I stay here with our cute little prince and babysit him.

\- Maybe you are right. I shall check on them. Please be safe.

\- Don't worry Erik, we will.

Upon arriving to the railway station, and searching for his relatives among the people he felt worse and worse by not noticing either Christine or the child anywhere. He was frantically searching for them and after some minutes he got desperate enough to overcome his unpleasant feelings about talking to others and started questioning people if they saw his wife and "son"- as Mahtab was dressed in boy clothes. He got many negative answers, but one of the conductors finally overheard a desperate sentence of Erik's about a "boy with blondish hair, about a meter tall" and a " young and beautiful blonde woman, dressed in a red gown " and he just called out to Erik:

\- Monsieur, I think I saw your wife!

\- Where? – Erik jumped in front of the conductor with growing worry.

\- She was searching for the small boy that snuck up on a train and she left with a carriage and an honorable man.

\- Snuck up on a train? – Erik felt he was breathing heavier.

\- Yes, Monsieur, the child somehow got on the train that was heading to Marseilles, and the honorable man took your wife by carriage after the train…

\- Honorable man…? What did he look like?

\- He had blond hair and a small mustache and… something happened to his right hand.

\- Were some of his fingers missing? – Erik asked suspiciously.

\- Yes, Monsieur.

\- Where did they go?

\- They wanted to arrive to Dijon before the train does.

\- Thank you… you helped a lot. – Erik bowed his head and he did not even know how to feel at that moment.

He was only sure that he had to find his daughter and wife as well. He just had enough time to get on a train heading to Marseilles as well. He knew that he will most likely be late- the train Mahtab was on had left nearly 2 hours before his train, but he only hoped Mahtab had enough brain to get off of it somewhere. He was nervous about Christine and Raoul being in the same carriage and also about the Daroga being alone with Florian. What an adventure, again…! He is too old for things like these…

Maurice Perier, the nearly 60 year old, honorable tall conductor was slowly walking through the wagons to see if someone new had gotten on the train when he suddenly noticed the great amount of noise coming from the second class wagon. He instantly thought there was some kind of trouble, so he walked in and asked what had happened. People were searching for something under the seats, nervously stuttering and yelling something about a monster, and some kind of thief and asked for his help. The man nodded and promised the nervous crowd that he was going to investigate the case. As he finished looking through the whole second class, he informed the crowd he had found nothing, then left to continue the search at first class. When he walked in a wagon at first class that had gotten empty in these hours since the train left Paris, he heard a strange noise coming from under one of the seats. He knelt down to examine it better and only then his eyes met two glowing eyes, one yellow and one blue. At first he assumed it to be a stray cat that somehow got up on the train but after he searched his memory, he found out he had seen something similar before in his life.

He was yet a boy back then, he was visiting the house of his aunt with his beloved father, George. Aunt Genevieve was his father's sister, and a very strange woman, she was cold, distant and one could rarely see her smile, and she did not really let anyone near her house after Uncle Henri died, but she loved her brother very much and he would visit her once or twice a year. One time he accompanied his father to Aunt's house and he started wandering around the rooms. He loved the Louis- Philippe furniture set everywhere in the house and the beautiful china cabinet in the dining room. Aunt Genevieve warned him not to go near the cellar, and when he asked, ehy not, she could not come up with a good excuse. Of course, Maurice was like any other 11 year old boys: if they told him not to do something, he would try to do it even if it wasn't in his mind earlier. The cellar door was so tempting. Maybe Aunt is keeping some treasures down there? Maybe there is a huge pile of sweets? Part of him wanted to be a good and obedient boy, but there was a too big temptation, and he wanted to investigate why was he banned from that one place while he was allowed to enter anywhere else?

As he tried to open the door, he was surprised upon finding it closed. No one closes a cellar door. Thankfully the key wasn't hidden, it lay on an end table in the same hallway. He inserted the key in the keyhole while he heard his father and aunt talking about sweet childhood memories a few rooms away. He slowly opened the door and took a step on the first stair leading down to the old and huge room It was dark, and though Maurice was a big boy, he was still a bit of afraid of the dark, yet he did not like to admit it to anyone. Suddenly he heard a strange noise from one of the corners, as something would have desperately ran to hiding and as he turned to face where the sound came from, he saw the pair of glowing eyes staring at him from a corner.

\- Hello? – Maurice called out. – Are you a cat? – He added.

No answer came and the eyes disappeared as well, but he could still hear some kind of nervous wheezing.

\- Come here… are you a human? I don't want to harm you. – Maurice continued.

\- I… I am… not… - He heard a very sweet sounding child voice from the corner. He could have sworn he had never heard such a sound before, even if it was very scared and faint.

\- Can you talk? – He went on. – I am Maurice… Maurice Perier… are you a boy or a girl…?

\- I… am not allowed to… talk to others. – The child refused to answer any of his questions, but Maurice was fascinated by what he just found – there was a child in his aunt's basement!

\- Please tell me if you are a boy or a girl! At least this…

\- Boy. – The voice whispered almost inaudibly.

\- Do you like playing with marbles? I have some very special, colorful ones. If you come here, we could play. Maybe you win them for yourself.

\- I don't know what they are. – The other boy replied. – Go away, before…

\- Maurice! Where are you? Supper is ready! – Aunt Genevieve's voice could be heard and soon after she appeared on the top of the stairs with some candles.

Only then he could see the room in some light. In a corner there were a pile of books, a chair, a table, a basin with some folded cloths, and a chamber pot. There was no one any more, just as no one was there earlier either.

\- What are you doing down there? – She scolded Maurice. – Didn't I tell you that you were not allowed down here?

\- Here is another boy! – Maurice exclaimed happily. – May I play with him, Auntie? Please!

\- I don't understand what you are talking about my boy. You exactly know I have no children.

\- But I heard him and…

\- It was only your imagination. You are a creative little boy, I am only afraid that the cake is going to dry if you don't come and eat it soon.

Maurice was suspicious about he really heard a boy down there, but some years later, when he went for a visit again, the cellar door was open and it was completely empty, so he finally accepted that one small amount of time was really just a dream or a game he imagined.

But now as he saw those glowing eyes again, he instantly knew it can't be a coincidence.

\- Come, don't be afraid. – He said softly. – Please, come here, child.

Mahtab did not really know what to do for some minutes, but the man kept calling her so kindly, so she finally climbed out from under the seats and sent a worried look towards the conductor. He was at first surprised of the child's skull face, but he had seen a lot of things in his life already, he wasn't as easily creeped out as most of the people. He could easily guess that people in the second class wagon got freaked out because of the child's face, yet he did not do anything special, only existing with some kind of physical malformation.

\- Will you not slap me? – She asked worriedly.

\- No, of course not. Such a tiny child, the poor thing. You are so scared. Where are your parents?

\- At home. – She answered a bit of calmer as she found out there were no more slaps waiting for her.

\- And why are you travelling on this train? You seem to be too small for it.

\- Papa said so as well. – She admitted penitently. – If only I could go home… I would never ever climb up on a train.

\- Oh, did you sneak from your parents, eh? – The man asked, and lifted Mahtab up from the ground. – Well- well, you were a naughty little boy. That means your parents are most likely worried about you to death. Don't scare them like that again.

As he saw the small boy was too scared to talk, he just carried her to an empty seat and put it down, placing a conductor's hat on the child's head so people will only see a huge hat instead of this small deformed face, and won't hurt her any more. Maurice couldn't get those glowing eyes out of his mind. This child had the same eyes, but he sure couldn't be the same child as he met at his aunt's house. So many years had passed since that and no way was it still so tiny. Maybe it could be the boy's son? Then it would mean they are related. He really had a cousin and they did not even met, only for a few sentences.

He did not exactly know what to do to that poor child as it looked so terrified and shocked of the happenings, but he wasn't allowed to leave the train. Only at major stations, while the machine was waiting, he could get off to smoke a cigarette or to rest a bit. He did not want to make the child travel to Marseilles with the whole train, as the poor boy was already worn out, but he could not send her back to Paris with his co-worker if they wait for the train that departs from Avignon (that was the next main station) to Paris because of the child's skull – face. Not all people would react to him as Maurice did – the sad reality is that most people would react to the child's features as the people at the second class. He scratched his head in confusion, but then the small child hit the window with two hands as she looked outside.

\- Papa! Papa! – She banged the glass, screaming. The man rushed to Mahtab's side and asked.

\- Can you see your father?

\- Yes, he is Papa! – Mahtab pointed at a skinny man wandering through the crowd in sunset, nervously examining the newly arrived train. – Papa! – Mahtab screamed.

\- Mahtab! – Erik exclaimed with a mix of fury and relief. – Mahtab! – He stormed through some bunch of people, stepping on feet, tossing them out of his way, not even listening to the displeased cries.

The conductor was happy to see that sweet moment when the worrying father could finally touch the child's bony hand, and he simply lifted it out of the train window.

\- Thank you Monsieur, for taking care of her. – Erik looked at Maurice when Mahtab was finally comfortably seated in his arm. – I don't know how could I repay you for it… but I will try to find a way.

\- There is no need to thank me. – He smiled contently. – I am just happy your child is safe.

\- Can I, at least have your name? – Erik insisted.

\- I am Maurice Perier.

\- From… Rouen? – Erik looked at the conductor with surprise. Yes, that conductor had his poor unhappy mother's eyes, now that he examined him better.

\- Yes, my family lived in Rouen. Do we know each other? – Maurice's heart was beating more rapidly, these happenings just were meant to be. This man is sure that boy from the cellar.

\- I… I… don't think so. – Erik stuttered nervously. He hugged Mahtab closer to himself then excused himself quickly and left.

\- What is your name? – He heard the conductor's excited voice behind him.

\- My name…? My name is… Erik. – He hurried away before the other man could ask for more questions.

He searched for a train back to Paris. Mahtab was unusually silent but he did not mind it too much this time. He was too worked up emotionally at that moment, too much feelings were mixed in his tortured soul. There was a Maurice Perier he heard of when he was a boy. To his knowledge, they were cousins, but he never was allowed to see him, as anyone else in his life. Whenever his uncle and cousin arrived in his mother's house for a visit, Erik had to go down to the cellar and live there until they left. It was mostly just a few hours, but there were times when he was locked in that damned cellar for 3 days. He only got the necessary things then: food, water a basin for washing himself, and a chamber pot. He wasn't allowed to leave the cellar or make noise as mother threatened him with a huge beating if he dared to. Mother would not talk to him while this lasted, not even the small amount of talk she did other times. She only visited the cellar to bring him food and water and to dump his waste. But the worst feeling wasn't even all of the above. Erik knew that he had to stay there because mother was ashamed of him. She did not want relatives to see him, because she would have died of shame if they met the disgusting creature that lived in the same household with her, so she wanted to keep his whole existence in a secret. Erik did not exist to others.

When Mahtab saw they were heading towards a train, she started crying again.

\- What's wrong, Mahtab? – Erik asked, noticing the child's pain.

\- I don't want to go by train! – She whined.

\- Why, you only wanted to go by train before.

\- Not anymore.

\- Why, what has happened?

\- There are people.

\- I know. – Erik nodded. – But this train has compartments and we can even close the door so no one will bother us.

\- Really? – She asked with hope.

\- Yes, dear, calm down.

Erik dried his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket as he realized that his small daughter was afraid of other people. Something bad has happened on that train. He was examining Mahtab as he placed her on the red plush seat and could see some hitting marks on her face. Oh, Mon Dieu… She lost her jacket somewhere and so was the mask missing. Erik was thankful for the huge hat on Mahtab's head, it mostly covered her face. He sat down next to the tiny girl and started humming softly to ease Mahtab's pain.

\- Papa! It comes to my mind about music! – She exclaimed as nothing had happened before. – What is this? – She reached into the trousers' pocket, then handed Erik the something she found.

\- A harmonica. – Erik replied. – Where did you get it?

\- A boy dropped it in front of me when he saw me. Why, Papa?

\- Well, he was just maybe, surprised about seeing such a small child on a train all by herself.

\- So I assumed he doesn't want it any more if he throws it and I just wanted to play it. Can you play it Papa?

\- Yes, I can.

\- Show me! – She knelt up to see it better.

\- Well, if you blow it, you can play C-E-G and C. The other notes can be reached if you inhale while playing.

\- Can you play the Jupiter symphony, Papa?

\- Oh, you certainly want to put my lungs at work… well, all right. – Erik sighed, and even though he wasn't in the mood for playing too much, he had to calm the child and music was always good to settle his nerves as well.

By the time he finished the first movement, Mahtab was sleeping still next to him on the seat, and he covered her up with his jacket. Most of his anger and nervousness faded, and he decided not to punish Mahtab for her rebellious act – she had suffered enough for it- even too much. She had to face people's hatred on her just because of her face, and may God help her to forget what has happened that day.

When he arrived to his home with Mahtab sleeping in his arms, the Daroga had already put Florian to sleep. Christine was carried to the bedroom after Raoul had returned her, after they finally heard Mahtab was found by her father and they travelled back to Paris. They were home earlier than the train as Raoul was really forcing the horses and the coachman as well. As Erik stepped in the bedroom, Christine slightly lifted her head up. Her face was as pale as she was dead.

\- Erik, I am…

\- Sorry? – Erik asked without much emotions. He was tired as well.

\- Yes..,

\- Let's just not talk about this, Christine. Erik is exhausted. He wants to sleep finally.

\- Are you… angry?

\- Christine, Erik is going to lay down in two minutes and he doesn't want to hear a single note until tomorrow. – He just removed his human mask and shoes and stretched out next to her in shirt sleeves, not even removing his cufflinks. As his head reached the pillow, he already started snoring a bit.

\- Erik…,

\- What? – He moaned sleepily.

\- I love you. – Christine whispered.

\- Ahem. – He just let out a groan with his mouth wide open, but Christine forcefully turned him to face her, then kissed his cheek.

\- I said I love you.

\- Me too. – Erik's eyes closed again and she could only hear his even paced breathing until she finally fell asleep as well, cuddling to Erik.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter XXIV

Erik woke up to someone trying to push him away from his place in bed. He moaned and wanted to fight against the force, but he suddenly felt a tiny skull hitting against his chest. He slowly opened his eyes and saw his daughter staring at him with an uncomfortable look on her face.

\- Mahtab it's late. – He whispered. – Go back to bed, my dear, will you?

\- I want to sleep with you. – She grabbed Erik's shirt sleeve and wanted to climb up next to him. Erik was laying at the edge of his bed and Mahtab did not really fit, only if Erik moved over and slipped backwards a bit. He sighed and did so, and then Mahtab jumped up in bed and cuddled against her Papa.

\- Mahtab, you have an own bed and you are such a big girl now… why do you want to sleep like this?

\- I am scared. – She buried her face in Erik's shirtfront.

\- Of what, dear? – Erik started to soothingly stroke Mahtab's shoulder and back with his long fingers and tried to find out what was bothering her.

\- Papa… what is disgusting? What does it mean?

\- Who said that?

\- Someone on the train. – She looked up at him with her mismatched eyes and they reflected both discomfort and confusion.

\- Ssssh… well, now try to sleep my dear, please. Papa will make you feel better. You can sleep here with Papa and Mama, and everything gets better in the morning.

\- Please let me love you, Papa.

\- I will, and I love you sweetie. – Erik caressed that twisted little face and kissed her forehead. He hugged her close to him, and Mahtab finally fell asleep, and after some time, Erik dozed off again as well.

In the morning Christine woke up with Mahtab sleeping next to her, on Erik's side of the bed. She was surprised as the small girl did not sleep there normally, only when Erik was at the hospital. When she turned her head to the side to examine the child better, she noticed that the girl lifted her head up, and that meant she was awake as well.

\- Good morning, Mama. – She smiled.

\- Good morning, sweetie… where is Papa?

\- In the bathroom.

\- What's the time… ? – Christine moaned to herself.

\- It's half past seven.. – Mahtab replied, looking at the grandfather's clock and jumped off of the bed to search for something to play with.

\- Wait… did you just tell me the time? –Christine gasped, looking at the child as she was suddenly talking in Latin or Hebrew.

\- Yes, you asked it. – Mahtab shrugged, just as Erik did in a similar situation.

\- How do you know how to read the clock? – Christine asked, still trying to figure out the reason behind Mahtab's capability of doing such a thing.

\- Papa taught me to do so.

Christine just was staring at the young girl for some moments. She was so tiny yet, she still needed two months to reach her fourth Birthday. She hasn't seen any 4 year- olds who could read a clock other than Mahtab. It could be that Erik taught her, but she was astonished about the fact of how such a small child is able to remember the process. She, to her knowledge, doesn't even know the numbers yet. But she was wrong. When she asked Mahtab about a simple mathematical question, she answered it correctly. She had to face the fact that Mahtab wasn't only able to add and subtract numbers up to 20, but she already knew some easier ways of multiplying. She could multiply by 10, for example.

\- Did Papa teach you these as well? – Christine could not overcome her astonishment while putting on her dress. Mahtab just sat there on the sofa, playing with Erik's pocket watch that she caught to herself from the nightstand.

\- Yes. – She nodded. She wasn't as usual, more silent and less excited.

\- Is something bothering you, Mahtab? – Christine knelt down in front of the girl, examining her facial expression. She noticed the black eye Mahtab got the day before, and her heart nearly broke upon realizing what danger she had to face. She tried to stay strong, but tears were forming in her eyes and she hugged her daughter to herself.

\- Mama, what does the word "disgusting" mean? What is ugly?

Christine could not reply. She knew indeed what was ugly. She could say it so easily about Erik to Raoul, so many years ago, when she described him, but she was simply unable to call her child or Erik ugly those days. Neither of them called Mahtab ugly. Erik stopped calling her a "little monster" as well as soon as Mahtab could understand words told very often to her. They only told her words of love, not hate.

\- Oh dear, whoever said that, they weren't right. You are not disgusting or ugly. You are my little one and my daughter. I love you and I was worried about you yesterday. Please promise Mama you will never sneak from me again. Please Mahtab, promise it.

\- I do. – She nodded. – I was so scared. I will never do it again. – She lowered her head and shuddered to the thought of the happenings and her enormous fear on the train.

\- Do you want to help me to take care of Flo? – Christine caressed the small skull- face, hoping that occupying Mahtab will help her to overcome her distress.

\- Yes. – She jumped off of the couch, following Mama to the nursery.

Flo was nearly a year old, and he loved to hug people. He was a very calm little baby, he ate a lot and was extremely lazy. He would mostly sleep, and did not show any interest in moving too much. He crawled, and was able to sit on his own, but standing up and walking just wasn't his cup of tea yet. He was quite silent, compared to being a baby, he would just babble something, but not nearly as much as Mahtab at that age. It worried Christine a bit. Was Flo developing normally? How would he talk in a year if he doesn't even babble too much?

\- He is a typical man. – Erik would remark. – You, women talk so much. Us, men, only talk when we have something important to tell. – He let out a small laugh and shrugged, which made Christine laugh as well and eased her worry a bit.

Erik did not find anything special about Flo's quietness. He was a silent child as well, himself, and he was nearly 3 years old when he started talking. He was actually kind of surprised that Mahtab learned to talk so early in her life. Girls tend to develop quicker, as they say. It might very much be the case. Christine was worried if Flo was deaf, for a time, but Erik calmed her about the subject. If it was the case, it would have been cleared up by this age, he always turns to the direction of sounds, and he recognizes his name being called, so there is absolutely no need to worry.

A strange and funny thing about Flo was that he could crawl way faster backwards, so he used this method the most. Erik would jokingly call him a prawn baby sometimes. Christine would often call him "little Erik" or "Erik Jr", which fact the father wasn't too fond of- he thought even one Erik is too much in the household, let alone two of them. He would consequently call his son "Flo" or "Florian", and never use the name "Erik" to address him.

Mahtab and Flo loved each other still, ever since the boy's birth. Mahtab loved to take care of her brother and Florian was smiling at his sister and loved to hug her when she went close to him. When Flo was placed down on the floor, Mahtab sat down next to him and stroke his hair and talked to him a lot. Erik and Christine were so happy to see their children in such a great relationship. They were a bit of worried that Mahtab would be jealous to a newcomer, but nothing like this happened. Mahtab never showed any bad feelings towards her brother. All of it was so idyllic.

At that day as well, Mahtab hugged and kissed Flo, caressed his face and sang some songs to him, only after she went to search for Erik. As she did not get an answer from Mama, she decided to ask Papa again about the thing that bothered her soul. She pushed the music room's door open as she heard the piano, and she did not have to be disappointed: Erik was sitting at the piano, playing a Beethoven sonata. As he noticed the child next to him, he bent down and patted her head with his right hand, then wanted to continue playing, but Mahtab did not leave.

\- Do you want to play four- hands? – Erik asked. – The Diabelli Alla Turca, eh?

\- No. – She shook her head.

\- Oh, you want to practice? – He frowned. – Dear, a bit later please, Papa wants to play now.

\- No. I want to talk to you Papa.

Erik did not have too much urge to interrupt Beethoven, but well, if you turn to be a father, your child shall always be first priority over anything else. He let Mahtab climb up on his lap and was listening carefully.

\- Well, what does Mahtab want to talk about?

\- Please tell me what the word "ugly" means. And why are people scared of me when I don't hide my face? Why do you get a new face on when you go outside, Papa? Why?

Erik scratched his head. He knew that he had to explain this to Mahtab one day, but he never thought that day will arrive so soon. It was even worse thing to explain than the "how does the baby get in Mama's belly" question. How should he explain such an important and life- changing and so messy situation to a four year- old? She might be clever enough to understand how clockworks work, but is she mature enough to understand how society works? Will she understand that people hate her for her looks? She finds nothing wrong with her or his face, as she is too much used to it. He showed her face to her even when she was yet a baby, because he did not want her to get terrified of her own reflection in a mirror, as he did when he was a boy. It went well, but now she doesn't understand the difference between them and "normal" people, and won't get why she gives people heart- attacks. There is no good solution to this situation. He has to answer her though. He has to answer the least painful and heartbreaking way. He sighed and looked at his daughter in a mixture of pity and love. He cleared his throat then came up with a good idea and started talking.

\- Mahtab, dear… well, Papa has showed you how you look like in the mirror, did he?

\- Yes.

\- And Papa looks the same way as you do, does he?

\- Yes, Papa doesn't have a nose and Mahtab doesn't have a nose either.

\- That's right. And… what does Mama look like?

\- Not like us. – Mahtab said instantly.

\- She has a nose and she has rosy colored cheeks. – Erik sighed dreamily.

\- Yes, she is beautiful.

\- Indeed, my girl. Well, you too are beautiful in my eyes as well, and so in Mama's. What does ugly mean, you ask? Well… listen to what I play.

Erik started playing some very much harmonic accords on the piano. They sounded just pure beauty.

\- So nice. – Mahtab sighed dreamily and smiled with her malformed lips.

Suddenly Erik slammed a dissonant accord in the middle of the composition and the girl's face turned into a frown.

\- Not right, not usual.

\- Not usual, you say? Not right? Then what happens if I play this?

Erik composed a melody of only using unusual and dissonant notes, yet the whole thing sounded so very well- thought and constructed, that, despite the disharmony, it sounded right and beautiful.

\- It is great. – Mahtab opened her mouth wide from amazement.

\- See, that's what ugly means, dear. Most people find something beautiful only if it meets their liking. That's why you found the first melody good as well. But if there is a trait that people don't like, they will instantly consider it ugly. People are used to people who look like Mama or Flo- not people like us.

\- So they think I am ugly because I don't have a nose?

\- Exactly. But if you listen to the second melody, you will see that something "ugly" can sound nice as well, if used correctly.

\- So I am not ugly?

\- Ugliness, my dear child, doesn't come from only the looks. If they knew your pure heart, they would not say such a thing. Don't listen to them, sweetie. Just be a good girl, as you are now. Do what Papa says, and protect yourself by covering your face – and no one will harm you ever again. Papa takes care of you.

\- And if I cover my face they won't hit me?

\- No. – Erik shook his head and he felt his throat was getting tighter and tighter.

\- Papa, I love that you don't have a nose and I don't think you are ugly.

\- That is very kind of you, my child. – Erik turned away on the piano benc for a time so Mahtab won't notice him crying.

\- Papa, may I tell Mama how did you explain me the ugly thing?

Erik was only able to nod, as he would have burst out in a painful sob if he talked. Mahtab jumped off of the bench and ran to tell the great news to Mama. When she closed the music room's door, she could hear Beethoven's "Pathetique" sonata blasted on full volume.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter XXV.

Mahtab did not ask what the word "ugly" meant anymore after Erik explained it for her through music. Yet music started to interest her more than it did before. She was fascinated by the notes her Papa played that afternoon and she was searching for them. She did not find them in Mozart, Bach or Beethoven – yet this latter sometimes showed similarities with it, but it wasn't the same. She could read music in treble and bass clef, as Erik taught her how to practice alone. She never tried to write music though. She suddenly decided to try to search for those unknown notes by trying to write them down. She wandered in Papa's study and searched for sheet music paper. Papa made it for himself in advance, so that he will be able to write that instant as he got inspired. He would spend hours by drawing the five lines on paper, and he also taught Mahtab to help him. They would do it together, talking about things that entertained them: music and science. These precious moments were so dear to both her and Erik. The proud father felt that he couldn't even be a whole person without Mahtab right now- he got too much used to her presence around him, and caught himself talking to her if for some reason she wasn't around him.

She grabbed some sheets of paper and climbed up on Papa's chair at the desk. She chose the red ink because it was Papa's favorite and held the quill. She felt so mature, such an adult, sitting on her father's place and composing music… she started scribbling some notes and measures on the paper and sometimes would lick on the quill, or chew it while thinking. She also scratched her head several times just as she saw it from Papa.

She didn't know yet when a composition was done, but after a time she just closed the last measure, and jumped off of the chair, excitedly running through the house to search for Erik. Shadow happily joined her on the top of the stairs and followed her to the music room. It was empty. Mahtab shrugged, and suddenly decided before showing it to others, she should maybe play it, to see how her song sounded. She climbed up on the piano bench and placed the sheet music on the piano to see it while playing. But something very interesting happened- she couldn't play it. Her fingers weren't able to move that fast and reach to that far as it would have needed for the song. She just pressed some keys around the ones she needed, but it wasn't the right rhythm. She sighed in frustration and slammed her fist against the keys. Shadow ran out of the music room howling. He never liked such a noise.

\- Don't hit the piano! – She heard Erik's dissatisfied voice from somewhere behind her. She turned around, but Papa wasn't in the room. Mahtab had no idea how Papa does such a thing sometimes, but she admired her father even more for this skill. She is going to learn this as well, for sure.

\- Papa, help me, please! – She tucked her head outside of the music room's door, searching for Papa.

Erik arrived soon, she could see him running upstairs and towards her.

\- What's wrong, Mahtab?

\- I can't play my music. Can you?

\- Whose music? – Erik bent closer to make sure he heard it right.

\- Mine. – Mahtab pointed proudly at herself.

\- Oh, I see, that is why you are covered in red ink, eh? – Erik shook his head scolding his daughter, and sighed. – Show your hands. – He tried to clean Mahtab's inky hands with his handkerchief, standing her between his knees as he squatted down to her.

\- I wrote a song.

\- Even your face has spots of ink, how on Earth did you do that? Do you bathe in that ink?

\- Papa, I wrote a song!

\- I can hear you but no way will you touch my piano with these hands again. How many times did I tell you to wash your hands after drawing, Mahtab?

\- A lot. – She groaned impatiently.

\- And you still don't listen. You look like a pork ling. – He suddenly realized that Mahtab may not know this word, so he added: - Do you know what a pork ling is?

\- Yes, I know, it is a child of a big filthy pig! – The little girl spat it out proudly.

\- Right answer. – Erik moaned, slightly displeased about being indirectly called a big filthy pig by his daughter. – Well now show me your composition.

Mahtab guided Erik to the piano with bright eyes, and pointed at the sheet music. Erik lifted it a bit closer to his face as, even if he did not like to admit it, his eyesight wasn't as perfect as it used to be in his youth, and well, he was nearly sixty, and the paper was covered in Mahtab's fingerprints that made it harder to read. Well, to tell the truth, it was nothing special. It was just a mixture of some random notes scribbled on a piece of paper – it had no consequent melody, nor did a rhythm pattern and it had no correct cadence. The end was just hanging in the air as if someone was just clueless how to finish a musical sentence, if it could be called that, anyways.

\- How is it, Papa? – She jumped up and down next to him in excitement. Her face was bright with pride and she couldn't wait his answer.

Now what to say? Erik was a very picky person about music, and a very good critic. He only accepted perfection during rehearsals with Christine and he would instantly throw such a piece in the fireplace if it was him who created it, most likely out of his clear mind, maybe being extremely drunk. But he simply can't tell this to an overexcited child who was longing for his support and praise. But he just can't say it was good, as it wasn't. Mahtab has no talent in composing. She has not much talent in music, at all, but he doesn't even except her to be. He knew that she only wanted to imitate him as he does this all the time, and he did not want to make her sad about her failure, so he just patted her head and nodded.

\- Good enough for a first piece. – He said, as he realized a nod won't be enough for Mahtab.

\- So I will be a composer? Like you?

\- Only God knows, dear. – He stated carefully. – Let's just wait and see what happens. You should practice a lot if you want to play and write music. I am not forcing you as you know. If you want to do it, then do it.

\- I do want to. – Mahtab nodded. – I love music.

\- I know. – Erik smiled. – I am happy you do.

At least she does not only want to play to impress him. She really likes music, just wasn't as lucky to inherit some more talent in music. But he loves her no matter what.

Florian started standing up and supporting himself with the help of furniture he could reach, finally when he was a year and 3 months old. He still did not walk, but he could stand very well and would try to walk if Erik or Christine helped him by holding him by the armpits. He, compared to Mahtab, wasn't as a cuddly boy, he did not like being held or carried around. Erik was silently thankful for that, he was afraid he would have to carry two children at once, but this wasn't the case, thankfully. He loved to sit or crawl around Christine on the floor, but when she wanted to cuddle him and smother him with kisses, he would at first laugh, for a time, but after he had enough of it, he expressed his dismay by a bit whining or trying to climb out of Christine's arms. He would gladly give hugs though, but long time cuddling wasn't for him. Erik respected his will more than Christine. The mother would always catch and kiss him a lot even if he did not really like it, but Erik just patted his head or stroke his face, so Flo seemed to like Erik more as well. Christine was a bit of disappointed about giving all the love to the small boy and he would greet Erik with a bigger grin in the morning. Both of her children adored their father more. But this is just how their family was- and she wouldn't change a thing about it.

One day, when Erik was sitting on the side of the locomotive bed with both of his children around him and he was reading a tale to them as a bedtime story, Mahtab asked suddenly:

-Papa, will we go to the Opera again?

\- Yes, dear, we will someday. – Erik nodded, closing the book and putting it back to the bookshelf that started to contain more and more books of various genres, but surprisingly, it mostly held books about mechanical structures. Mahtab wasn't able to read, but she adored to look at drafts just as she adored to look at storybook illustrations. They were nearly the same to her, by the way.

\- When? – She kept going on as she did not find Erik's answer satisfying enough. Erik lifted Flo out of Mahtab's bed, gently kissed his cheek while his son hugged his neck and carried him to the cradle and placed him in the small bed, then tucked him in.

\- Go to bed, little fellow. Good night. – He smiled, then returned to Mahtab's bed to say good night to his daughter as well.

\- When, Papa? – She repeated eagerly.

\- I am not sure yet, dear, we will soon.

\- I would like to listen to Opera, I love them.

\- All right, dear, but now you should close your eyes and sleep, will you?

\- Papa…?

\- Yes?

\- Do you like opera as well?

\- Of course, Mahtab, I do, I love all kinds of music.

\- Did you write an opera yet? – She asked curiously.

\- Well… yes, I did. – Erik nodded, gently pushing Mahtab down to a laying position on the bed and kissed her. – Sleep now, or Papa will be angry, right?

\- Papa, did they play your opera in the Opera house? – This kid clearly didn't want to sleep…

\- No.

\- Why not?

\- Because Papa wrote it for himself. – He replied, but he lifted his index finger and shook it towards the girl. – In two minutes, Papa doesn't want to hear another word, or you will see what he is like when he is angry… sleep!

He turned away from the bed to leave, but he again heard the high – pitched voice behind his back:

\- Papa…

\- If I hear you saying the word "Papa" again this night I swear I will glue your mouth shut, child!

As he wanted to leave again, he heard a soft whisper:

\- Monsieur Spöke, I am thirsty…

He could not stay mad at Mahtab, to tell the truth, he wanted to laugh at the situation, but he just sighed and returned with a glass of water. He sat down to the bedside again while waiting for the glass, but Mahtab did not drink right away, but looked at him with interest.

\- You said you wanted to drink, so do it, will you?

\- Papa, why did you not write the opera for others?

\- Mahtab, it is late. Drink that water and sleep. I will be really angry if you keep asking questions now.

Christine overheard the talk between Erik and Mahtab and she started wondering about the situation. Indeed, Erik was an incredibly talented composer. Erik considered himself as a "musician" rather than a composer, he only said he "was composing music from time to time", but he did not think it as a main profession. He always wrote music for himself or later, for Christine, to express his feelings. It was just a form of art and communication to Erik, not a job. Yet, there were his works, in his study, stored in the drawers of his desk. They were magnificent. Incredible. They were just as great as the works of the biggest composers of all time. Erik's music could easily be compared to Beethoven, Chopin or Mozart. And really, no one should ever hear them? Do they have to lay in the drawers, forgotten and abandoned after they are completed?

She snuck in the study, and opened the upper drawer of the desk where she could find Don Juan Triumphant. She never read it, not even during their marriage. Erik did not want her to see it, as he often stated. No, she shall not read it now either. But there are other sheet music as well. For example, right under Don Juan's score, there was a symphony. She carefully slipped it out and read through the first movement. It was written in E minor and it was just simply stunning and brilliant. It can't go on like this. The world should hear Erik's genius and appreciate his music. Such a treasure can't be hidden here forever.

She was searching for a copy that she could send out for a publisher, but she had to face that Erik never made copies. All of his compositions were original sketch. There was only one copy of each of his work. She knew he would notice if a symphony was missing from there, and she did not even want to lose an original manuscript, so she decided to copy it herself. She was copying it while Erik was taking a bath before bedtime. She did not have to hurry too much – it took forever to wait Erik out of the bathroom always. What a luck they had more bathrooms in the house!

Erik did not understand why he had less empty sheet music paper day by day. Who the Hell keeps stealing it? Erik was looking through Mahtab's toy box and bookshelf as his first guess was his daughter, but he did not find the missing paper there. As he couldn't find out what was happening, he just decided not to worry about something so minor, so he just made some more sheet music paper and forgot about the strange issue for a time.

New Year came – it was 1890 already.

Christine was waiting eagerly for something. She did not tell why, but Erik could sense it in her behavior. She was excited for no apparent reason, and she would sometimes giggle or close her eyes and sigh dreamily. When he tried to question her about the reason of her delight, she only would give him foggy hints about a "very good happening", but didn't say more.

\- Are you… expecting again? – Erik asked once, suspiciously.

\- Oh no… - she laughed. – Not that type of happening. – She added.

Erik sighed in relief- there were enough children in his home for his liking. One boy and one girl- it is enough and he was more than relieved that he won't be a father again.

On a snowy day in February, when Christine was playing with Flo, Erik was playing the piano and Mahtab was laying on her belly on a couch, looking at the pictures in one of her storybooks, suddenly the doorbell rang. Christine jumped up to answer the door with great excitement. She hoped so that it was finally the letter she was waiting for. She had sent out the symphony in 2 months- and she couldn't wait to finally get a reply.

She wasn't wrong. Erik Spöke received a letter and a package from a music publisher company she sent the symphony for. Yes, it was for her husband, but as soon as she was left alone, she opened the envelope to see the letter. She knew it wasn't right to read other's letters, but she had a small fear of it might be a rejection, and she did not want Erik to face it unexpectedly, if that was the case.

\- Who was that, Christine? – She heard Erik's voice getting closer, and his footsteps as he was descending the stairs. She tried to read through the letter before replying, so she forgot to reply at all, but burst out in a cry of joy as she finished it. She reread the letter 3 times, but it said the same thing: Erik's symphony was published! The letter contained a paycheck as well, of 250 francs, and M. Spöke was asked to send some more of his works if possible, as they were interested in further cooperation. In the package there was a printed copy of it, along with the manuscript that was sent back. – Christine, what's that? – She heard Erik's voice just behind her back right now.

\- Look! – She exclaimed, showing him the letter.

\- What? – He gasped, turning pale as his eyes ran through the lines. – WHAT symphony…? What the Devil…?

\- I sent them your symphony, and they published it, Erik! – She jumped up and down in happiness.

Erik did not react as she imagined him to do so. He did not say a single word, just dropped the letter on the ground, dragged himself to the drawing room and collapsed in his chair just as if he was very ill suddenly.

\- Erik, what is wrong now?

\- What have you done? – Erik buried his face in his hands, softly moaning. – What the Devil have you done again, woman?

\- I don't understand your problem… can't you see it is successful? We got money with it… they asked for more! Erik, you are a great composer and…

\- No, no, no, noooooo – He whined. – You DON'T understand, you clearly don't, woman.

\- Erik, why are you like this?

\- Why do you have to hammer nails into Erik's coffin, Christine?

\- Erik, I don't know what your problem is, please tell me…

\- You betrayed me.

\- Me?!

\- You did.

\- Why?

\- You ask why, you dare to ask why? Did Erik tell you he wanted to publish his music?

\- No…

\- Because he DID NOT! – He jumped up from the chair with such a force, Christine found him incapable of at this state. – You know that music for me… music for me… is not about… people… and what people like… I don't care! I write my music for MYSELF! And I don't want anyone to see it, Christine, I told you this!

\- Erik, I don't see why you should only write for the drawer and hide these from people.

\- Because it is MY music, not theirs… Erik did not write it for them…

\- Your work is marvelous, Erik. I think, musicians will learn a lot if they analyze them. Your name will be mentioned in music history books next to Mozart's and…

\- MY name? Christine, I don't have a name! Erik is not even me, in the first place! And I don't want "my" name to be mentioned anywhere! I don't want my music to be seen! – Erik walked around the room in faster and faster circles, Christine started to feel dizzy upon looking at him.

\- But why? It is beautiful Erik, it's nothing like you have to be ashamed of… it is not like your face!

She suddenly fell silent… but it was already too late. Word were already spoken. Erik suddenly stopped and moaned in pain. He was shaking from head to toe and as his trembling knees were not strong enough to support his weight, he fell on his knees on the floor, crying.

\- Erik… - Christine tried to approach the poor man from behind, but he stopped her with his palm.

\- Go… away.

\- Erik, I am sor-

\- I said… go… AWAY! – He was wheezing as he was feeling sick, tears were flowing down on his malformed face and he could hardly speak.

\- Are you all right? – Christine leaned closer.

\- Leave… me… alone.

\- Please just let me help you up from here…

\- Don't… touch… me. – He pushed Christine's hand away from his arm and slowly staggered to his feet.

Christine was just silently staring at Erik, who slowly left the room, but did not dare to follow him.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter XXVI.

\- Papa, what's wrong? – He heard a high pitched voice behind his back as he was dragging himself outside of the drawing room. He did not really have too much strength left in him, he was feeling dizzy and exhausted. He slowly walked in the childrens' room and lay down on Mahtab's bed. It was quite long, so he could lay on it with only his feet touching the floor.

\- I have to rest a bit, Mahtab, please be quiet. – He murmured softly.

\- Are you ill? – She examined Erik with a bit of worry.

\- No, just tired. – He assured the child of his well – being, however it wasn't totally true.

\- I shall tell you a bedtime story. – She sat on the bedside willingly, as she saw from Papa always.

\- Just let me rest, dear, will you?

\- All right, but I cover you up. Papa will catch a cold and we can't let it happen.

She pulled a soft and fluffy pink blanket across the room and gently put it all over Erik to protect him from feeling cold. Erik, even though he wasn't feeling too well, could not help, but softly laugh at his small daughter's caretaking. She climbed up next to Erik and cuddled against his side and decided to take a nap with Papa, so she won't wake him up.

They slept for a time together. Erik got the chills in his sleep. Really, it was useful to have that blanket on him, however he hated pink. He suddenly felt someone caressing his face. At first he assumed it was Mahtab, but the hand was much larger than a child's so he moaned in discomfort upon realizing who touched him. He opened his eyes, and looked at his wife with a blank expression, then slowly stood up and walked away – but Christine followed him. They arrived back to the drawing room where Erik looked out of the window. Christine stood behind one of the armchairs and nervously twisted the lace overlay on the backrest between her fingers. She felt she needed to talk to Erik, so that they will be able to work things out. She thought the best will be if she ask him about his health – he seemed to be sick.

\- Are you feeling better? – She inquired.

\- No. – He barked at her, not even looking back.

\- Are you in pain?

\- No.

\- Do you need anything?

\- No.

\- Do you want to sleep for some more…?

\- No.

\- Should I call the doctor for you, Erik?

\- Rather the undertaker as you are clearly digging my grave. – This sentence was finally longer, but the more painful than his cold "No"-s.

\- Erik… - She gasped.

\- What? Am I really that terrible to live with? You want me dead?

\- No, of course not! – She rushed to his side, trying to hug him, but Erik was not in the mood for cuddling the least.

\- Leave me be. – He moaned.

\- Erik, I am sorry about deciding for you…

\- It's not about that.

\- I only wanted you to be happy, wait… what did you say?

\- It's not about that damned symphony the first place.

\- But about what?

\- About you don't love me. – He looked down at his feet, avoiding any type of eye contact.

\- I do love you, Erik, you are my husband and we have children and…

\- You are ashamed of me.

\- I did not say that…

\- You said I have to be ashamed of my face. That equals you ARE ashamed of it. Still. Don't lie to me, or to yourself anymore.

\- It was something I just said without thinking. Forgive me. I know I hurt your feelings today but I don't want to hurt you. Erik, these were just words… words I did not mean… I love you.

There was silence. Erik wasn't looking at her. He did not reach out for her, on the contrary, he hid his hands behind his back, just like at the Opera. He would stand this way back then after Christine showed horror after he offered his hand for her on the day he showed her around his underground home. He hid his hands so that he won't make Christine repulsed by an accidental touch. She understood the meaning behind this pose of Erik's only at that moment. She instantly knew there was a huge problem that can't be solved with a simple "I am sorry."

\- Erik, I love you.

Silence. It was so choking, so heavy silence. They stood a few meters away from each other, yet it seemed like they were standing on two banks of a river that was several kilometers wide. Christine knew she had to cross the river to meet Erik again, but she didn't know how to do it.

Erik slowly walked to the bedroom, without a glance or a word. Christine followed him nervously and noticed with a shock that Erik put some of his clothes and his most necessary items in his suitcase.

\- Erik… for God's sake! – She gasped. – These were just words… how can you be so sensitive about some words…?

\- Just some words… wouldn't be such a harm. But words like these... or worse… through a whole life… are enough to make me a bit more sensitive about them.

\- Erik, are you really this mad at me?

\- No. – He shook his head. – Not mad.

\- Then?

\- Disappointed… frustrated… sad… desperate.

\- Erik, if I can do anything to make you feel better…

\- You can.

\- What?

\- Leave me alone, that.

\- And now where are you going?

\- I need some time to think.

\- Erik, I am sorry for everything…

\- Christine, not now, please. I need to calm down and think things through.

\- But do you want to go to that freezing place? Erik, it is too cold, you will fall ill…

\- At least you can finally bury me and marry Chagny, as you always wanted. You get free of this burden of a husband.

\- Erik, why do you say this? I know you are hurt, but must you hurt me in return?

\- See? I am only hurting your feelings and you have to be ashamed of me. Why did I think you will be happy with me?

\- Erik I…

\- No one is happy with me. We can't live like a normal family, regardless of how I try. I am not normal, so how could we? It was a mistake, Christine. A big mistake to force myself on you.

\- Do you call our marriage a mistake?

\- My whole LIFE is a mistake, Christine. If only my poor mother would have put a pillow on this horrible face while I slept as an infant and wouldn't have released it until I finally stop moving, that would have been nice.

\- Erik…! Don't say that!

\- It's the truth.

\- Erik, you can't hate me that much to leave me… just for some words. Forgive me, I beg you!

\- I don't hate you, Christine. No. I love you.

\- Then why…?

\- Because I love you. You will be happier without me.

\- I am so sorry I published that symphony. If I don't publish it, you wouldn't leave now.

\- Then it would have happened about something else, Christine… eventually. Real feelings come to surface once. You cannot hide them forever. Adieu, Little Lotte.

\- Erik please… stay…

\- I can't now. Please understand and leave me be for some time.

Erik lifted up the suitcase and walked to the hall, but while putting on his shoes and coat, he could sense someone nervously eyeing him. He glanced behind and noticed the small girl standing by his side, looking at him. Christine was nervously cracking her fingers in the doorway of the bedroom and he could hear some muffled sobs.

\- Papa, where are you going? – Mahtab asked.

\- I am leaving for a time, dear.

\- No. – She said. – You stay here.

\- No, Mahtab. Papa needs to go for some days, but he will come back. Be a good girl. Listen to Mama, will you?

\- No. – She hugged Erik's leg and was clinging to it desperately. – You go and there will be trouble. You nearly did not come back last time. I know you nearly did not… - She cried.

Erik started thinking for some minutes. He did not think his hospital stay left such memories in his child, he did not even know she knew the truth. He felt sorry for the crying girls, but he really did not want to stay as he knew Christine won't leave him alone if he does. He needed peace and calm to heal his shattered soul and go on with life. He felt sorry for Christine in a way – no, she sure did not want to be mean to Erik. He knew she meant well, the dear and honest girl. She married and stayed with a monster out of pity and good will for several years. She tried her best to bear his presence. She even let him make love to her more times. He could touch and feel her alive. He will always be thankful for that. But Christine really deserves someone better than him, who could give her a normal life. She won't have to be afraid of anything, she won't have to hide her child's ugly face – because Mahtab doesn't belong here either, just as he doesn't. Christine never knew how to handle an ugly child. Not because she didn't love her – of course, she did. But Christine did not know what it like was to live with a face like that. Thankfully. She did not understand the situations in which she could cause harm to Mahtab, even against her will and intentions. He cannot leave the child here- because Mahtab will suffer and so will Christine. No man would want to marry her with a child like Mahtab, and she would slowly wither away, crying after him. But a man like Chagny could make her forget about the monsters in her life. Flo is a cute little guy – he will be loved by the perfect family – and he will take care of his ugly little offspring. It was meant to be. At least, he won't be lonely either any more.

\- Don't cry, Mahtab, you come as well. – Erik said softly. – Get your most necessary things and come back here.

Mahtab ran to her room without a second thought, and Christine thought at first that Erik only wanted to trick the child into releasing his leg, so that he can sneak out of the house, but to her surprise Erik did not move. Maybe was he thinking? Is he going to change his mind finally? Will he stay?

She saw with a shock that Mahab arrived back with a suitcase and stepped next to Erik to receive her jacket and mask. As Erik was doing the buttons on Mahtab's clothing, she stepped closer with horror.

\- Erik, do you really want to take her?

\- Believe me, it is best for everyone.

\- Where are we going, Papa? – Mahtab asked curiously.

\- Erik, you can't do this! She is my daughter! – Christine ran to them to take Mahtab from Erik, but before she could reach them, Erik had already picked up Mahtab with her luggage as well, and walked out of the front door.

She was running after them only dressed as she was, not even paying attention to snow getting into her slippers. Erik was walking so fast with his long legs, he outpaced her so soon… She was running as fast as she could, through the garden, but suddenly she slipped on a bit of ice and fell. When she staggered to her feet, she could only see Erik entering a coach with the girl, and they left for somewhere.

\- Where are we going, Papa? – She nagged Erik, while looking out of the carriage window.

\- We are going for an adventure. – Erik replied, not wanting to scare the child.

\- But where?

\- We will see some foreign places together. Do you like to travel, eh? Papa has travelled a lot in his life.

\- Will we go to Persia? – She exclaimed.

\- No. It is too long ride for you yet. – Erik chuckled. – Why do you want to go there?

\- Because Tonton Mohammed told me about it was very nice place, Papa.

\- It is. – Erik agreed. – But at first, we go somewhere closer.

\- In the country?

\- For tonight, even in the city. – Erik nodded. – Please forgive me for the circumstances awaiting for us there, but well, I don't live there anymore and it is a bit neglected.

\- What is a circumstance, Papa? It sounds strange. I don't want them to bite me.

\- Oh… I mean the state the house is in, my dear. I keep forgetting that you are just a child yet.

\- Am I silly, Papa?

\- No, you are not silly, you are only young and know little yet. Bu Papa will teach you everything you need to know.

When they walked in the Opera, Mahtab exclaimed happily, but Erik put his index finger on his lips to silence the happy child. He had to explain her not to make noise to draw attention to them and they weren't there for watching Opera. Mahtab opened her eyes and mouth wide of astonishment and surprise. She was a quiet little girl just as Erik asked her to be as he was carrying her down below the Opera House, but she could not resist asking Erik questions after a lot of stairs.

\- Why are we down here Papa, It is dark here.

\- I know. Darkness isn't bad, Mahtab, it is good for us.

\- Why?

\- It helps us hide.

\- From what?

\- People.

\- Mama will come here hiding too?

\- No. Only you and I are going on an adventure. But we go further tomorrow. I take you here only for tonight to sleep. We can't live here anymore, it is not a good place for you. There is no furniture or anything left here. But it is at least a roof above our heads.

\- It's Papa's home?

\- It used to be, before I… married… your mother. – He sighed.

Several stairs later, they finally arrived to the lake. Erik found it a better idea not to carry Mahtab through the Torture Chamber. She was yet an innocent child, and she would ask so many unwanted questions about that room that he would have rather spared themselves of the torture. He placed Mahtab into the boat and ordered her not to jump around in it. He got in as well and started rowing.

\- I want to try it out! – She jumped up. The boat was rocked a bit, but it was easy to balance it yet.

\- I told you to sit on your rear! – Erik moaned.

\- I want to do what you do.

\- You are to small and weak yet to row a boat with two people. Sit back.

\- No, I am not, I want to…

\- Mahtab I am fed up! I said SIT!

The girl obeyed finally. Erik wiped his forehead of sweat then continued rowing the boat towards the lake house. He imagined it to be a better idea if he stands up and tries to row faster so they get to the other bank sooner – Mahtab seemed to be a bit of needy and maybe tired. Mahtab got amazed at the sight of what Papa, her dear, clever and awesome Papa can do. It was even more interesting than the trick before. She definitely wanted to try this out!

She jumped down from the seat and tried to walk across the boat to stand next to Papa, but it was surprisingly hard to do. She could not feel a safe spot under her feet and she kept falling side to side. Erik looked back with displeasure and saw what his little troublemaker was into again.

\- Mahtab I swear I spank you if you don't stay still!

\- Papa, look! - She finally climbed back up at the other end of the boat, and stood like Erik. – Look what I can do!

\- Mahtab, sit down! – Erik got horrified of the mere sight, he felt like he just got a heart attack.

\- Why? – The small girl laughed. – Look, I am a very clever boy! Just as you are!

\- Sit! – Erik yelled, and wanted to get closer to the child to push her down on her seat, but this move caused the boat to rock again.

Mahtab lurched while standing, and fell to the side, but she wasn't as lucky as before. In a split second, she lost her balance and the boat from under her feet. The last thing she could hear before reaching the surface of the giant ink – black water was Erik's cry of pure horror. The water closed above her head and she could not get back up on the surface, no matter how hard was she fighting – her foot got stuck somewhere, and she could not pull it out. Water was running into the hole where her nose should have grown, and it caused her much pain. She could only hear the water buzzing in her ears. Her vision was blurred and her eyes were burning. She wanted to cry for Papa, but her mouth was only filled with foul tasting water – and finally she closed her eyes exhaustedly and darkness fell on her.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter XXVII.

The water showed signs of desperate fight for some moments that felt like an eternity to Erik. The stupid iron chain of the boat did not want to release the child's foot as Erik was trying to free her underwater. They were running out of time – Mahtab was clearly unconscious, or even worse – and Erik did not have the hollow reed for the siren trick with him to breathe through, so he just had to hold his breath while trying to free his daughter. He had to remove her boot that was instantly caught by water, never to be found again. Finally the damned chain loosened, and Erik held Mahtab in his arms, quickly working his way up to the surface. He was wheezing and spitting for some moments- water got in his nose hole as well which made his head throb. Mahtab did not cough up any water, so Erik hurriedly swam to the bank of the lake to help her if he still can.

It took long minutes to make Mahtab finally breathe again. It was like burning Hell. Erik was working so hard pumping and shaking water out from the child, and then breathing her artificially until she finally took a deep breath all by herself. It was the sweetest sound on Earth for Erik. As he gently carried the soaked little thing to the house by the lake, undressed her of her wet clothes and bundled her up in some old blankets he left in the coffin, then put her down to sleep in the only kind of bed still left in the house, his mind was racing. He was thinking about the happenings that led to this very moment.

Oh Mahtab, his sweet little Mahtab nearly died.

Because of him.

He wished her dead at the moment of her birth, when he first saw her face – and wished himself dead some hours earlier. But he just could not… he wasn't able to end Mahtab's life in her infancy. He sometimes wondered what if she just fell asleep forever, or he could give her some not even too large amount of laudanum to make her sleep forever and he could forget and bury the inconvenience in their lives and they could move on… but now as he grew to love his daughter with all his heart, he now understood that Mahtab wasn't an inconvenience or a burden to him. Why didn't his poor unhappy mother feel the urge to kill him when he was a baby? He can't kill Mahtab as he loves her. But his mother always loathed him. Did she? Of course, she did, as she never let him kiss her, and he did not ever receive a single kiss on his forehead. How can someone love him if his mother did not like him in the first place? A parent loves a child no matter what. He loves Mahtab no matter what. And can it be that Christine loves him too? All of her actions towards him seemed to be honest… you maybe can't play a role for years and years… what if she feels for him just as he feels for Mahtab? Is that possible? No matter how disgusting you look, I still love you. You are not even disgusting… can it be that Christine does not think him disgusting either? But then why did she say he had to be ashamed of his face? Why? How could she say this? She knew well that it was his weak spot and they never talked about his appearance. It was just something they did not discuss. Christine did not tell him he was handsome, never. She knew that Erik would hate to hear such a lie, and it would not comfort him. She told him "I love you" often. It was like if she just said "You are very ugly – but I love you".

What is love if not this? Acceptance and compassion, with a big amount of tenderness – that was he received from Christine in these years of their marriage. Oh Christine… sweet, little Christine…

As he was looking at the fragile little corpse body of the living proof of their love, now totally undressed, laying in his enormously big coffin, he realized that he will have to put Mahtab in a coffin of her size pretty soon if things go on as they do now. He acted out of being hurt, without thinking things through. His insanity and touchiness keeps dragging him in dangerous and unpleasant situations. Every time he had killed someone, he acted under the moment's influence. That's what he has to change. He had to admit he nearly killed his own daughter, one of the very few people he ever loved and cared for in this miserable life of his. He can't act like a hurt and wounded animal, fleeing from his problems. His logic was totally flawed. He is now a married man with children. He has responsibilities and a family. He can't abandon his wife and other child as he would have done without Mahtab's incident. Where on Earth did he want to travel with her, anyway? Where would he want to hide and bury her alive?

Suddenly, his lament was interrupted by an unpleasant sound. He lifted his head and Mahtab sat up in the coffin, nervously. The alarm bell went off that warned Erik about a visitor coming on the lake. Someone was in the boat, damn it!

-What is it, Papa? – Mahtab asked with worry and on a sleepy tone. – What is that noise?

\- Nothing, dear… - He had to compose himself to answer the calmest way possible not to scare the child any further. – I just… have to leave for some minutes.

\- No, Papa, don't leave! – She screamed, jumping up in the coffin, and grabbed Erik's wrist.

\- Nothing is wrong, my dear child. I just… have to… feed the siren.

\- The what? – Her eyes lit up in interest.

\- The siren. It is a creature that lives in the lake.

\- I go and see it too. – She stated.

\- Oh no, no, no, Mahtab. You… have to stay here.

\- Why?

Erik nervously scratched his head for some seconds. He just can't let his child to witness the thing he was going to commit. Mahtab should not be trained for murder… not yet. Such an innocent thing should keep her child soul just as long as she is able to – one day she has to learn some things for surviving anyway- but Erik hoped it will be as late as possible. But he had to do it once more, to protect the child from danger. Mahtab, however should stay in the house… what to do… what to do…?

\- Because you, my child, will have a much more important thing to do.

\- Really? What?

\- Look! – Erik walked her in one of the empty corners, gesturing to the wall.

\- What to look, Papa?

\- I know you can't see it. – Erik leaned closer to the small girl, patting her shoulder on a friendly way, and whispered in her ear just as he was to tell her a secret. - But here is a dragon nest.

\- A what?

\- A dragon nest, my dear, with many- many eggs.

\- Really? – She wondered. – Why is here a dragon nest?

\- Because the Mama Dragon lives near, my sweet girl. She just fell ill and can't watch the eggs, so she asked me – but as you know, I have to feed the siren right now.

\- Do you want me to watch the eggs? – She offered.

\- Yes, Mahtab, that is actually your job.

\- But how can I watch something I can't see?

\- It is easy! Listen to them, child!

\- Of course! I can now hear them!

She could hear some kind of sounds coming from that corner, so she just stood there and listened carefully.

\- Just stay there, dear, and look after the baby dragons while Papa is away.

\- Will do! – Mahtab assured. – Don't worry, they are in good hands!

As Mahtab was finally occupied, Erik grabbed the reed from the other corner and left the house to finish that horrid task one more time – and never ever again. He will never return to the Opera cellars, so help him God – not with or without Mahtab or any of his children.

Rowing the boat wasn't as easy as she thought. Erik always seemed to do it so gracefully that it looked like to be one of the simplest things on the world. But everything was so easy for Erik – everything but handling his emotions. She took a deep sigh. She did not know if she really will find him here and if she should talk to him at all, but she wasn't able to just sit at home, waiting for miracles to happen. She was a strong and independent woman and she had to take care of issues herself. And no way was she going to find the other path to the torture chamber again – and she wasn't even sure Erik will let her out this time, he seemed to be so very crazy as he left. She just chose the lake. But this boat gave her problems. It never turned the way she wanted it to. She was a bit of afraid she might lose the balance and fall out of the boat, so she slowed down a bit. A good sign that Erik's suitcase was placed under the other seat of the boat, so he is sure somewhere around.

Suddenly she heard a soft and beautiful soprano voice singing a lullaby. She could not find out the direction the sound came from, so she just stopped to look around. She, very carefully, not to make the boat rock, or not to make noise, curled up on her seat, examining the dark and ominous water. She didn't recognize the voice. It wasn't like anyone's voice she knew, but she was certain it wasn't Erik. However talented ventriloquist he was, and she knew he was able to change the tone of his voice to boy soprano, it wasn't the same sound. She remembered about some kind of siren trick of Erik's that happened on that awful night when Count Philippe died. She knew that Count Philippe died in this lake as well. But she had an advantage by knowing about the trick. She was waiting for Erik's robot to appear – she pictured it to be something similar as Cadence was, and this fact made her hate it the more. A dull robot won't outsmart her – she is here to defend herself!

She noticed some kind of pipe getting closer and closer to the boat on the surface, but the singing still could be heard from all directions at once. What a clever way to trick anyone – anyone but her. She put her hand on the opening of the pipe and pressed it tightly shut. Some moments later bubbles appeared on the surface of the lake, and this surprised Christine a lot. Can this thing breathe? Cadence wasn't able to do so, is this a more developed thing, or is this actually ALIVE?

She did not have much time to think, as two hands grabbed the edge of the boat. Christine, suddenly acting out of sheer panic, grabbed the paddle and hit on the hands with full force. The thing instantly let go of the boat. She got scared, but tried to stay strong. She knew it was a match for life and death.

\- Come now! I am armed! – Christine threatened. – The next one will reach your stupid mechanical head, you obnoxious murder- machine!

She did not have to wait for too long – the siren's head emerged from the water, and without a split second of hesitation, Christine struck a blow on the head- but the next moment she gasped in horror. Much to her astonishment, she heard a too much familiar cry of pain. The voice couldn't have been mistaken.

\- E… Erik?... – She sat back down at her seat, slightly leaning forward to see her husband more clearly. – Erik, is that you?

\- Wh… who … else…? – He moaned in pain, as he revealed his hiding place. – Who is… there… with you? Let me see!

\- No one. I am all alone… why do you ask?

\- Because… ouch… there is NO… possible way that YOU… hit Erik's head… like this.

\- I am sorry… please forgive… - wait a little… it means… You are the siren!

\- Yes… did you expect… it to be the Daroga, eh?

\- Don't dare to be sarcastic! – Christine's voice changed to an accusing one. – You have killed Count Philippe! And you wanted to kill me!

\- I did not… mean to kill you!

\- Yes you did!

\- No! Once I realize it was you I'd have swam out with you- ask the damned Persian cop if I killed him or not!

\- Still you wanted to kill a person!

\- Only to protect the child. – He took a deep sigh that gave away his regret, but he continued with pressing his hand against his head and hissed in pain.

\- That serves you jolly well right, you know! How can you attack helpless people like this?

\- Helpless? – Erik laughed bitterly, while tears and water was running down his sunken cheeks. – You? Erik must laugh! May God help all sirens and Phantoms who happen to stumble upon your merciless little hands… my darling…

He wanted to turn away and swim to the end of the boat to pull it out by the chain, but Christine offered him her small and beautiful hand to help him get in the boat.

\- Erik, I don't think you should swim with an injury like that… please come in.

\- I shall, if you promise not to hit me anywhere again.

\- No, of course, Erik, I won't. I am sorry.

Erik climbed in the boat, but he was unable to row that instant. He just sat there, holding his head, and Christine was alarmed to see some bloodstains slowly soaking Erik's cuff and shirt sleeve.

\- You are bleeding! – She sat closer worriedly.

\- No wonder after Christine broke a paddle on Erik's head. He is pretty sure she just cracked his skull.

\- Erik, I am sorry.

\- I am too. – He admitted softly. – I wasn't thinking right.

\- Oh, Erik… I know I shouldn't have said what I did… but I swear I did not mean it. Please come home… Erik, please…

\- I do want to go home. – He agreed, to Christine's surprise. – But please, Christine, answer me ONE question honestly.

\- As you wish. – She placed a hand on Erik's shoulder.

\- What do you think of my face, Christine?

\- Is that important?

\- Yes. Because if you find me disgusting, and only stay with me out of pity, and all our marriage is based on a white lie, I don't wish to go on with it.

\- How to prove you I love you, Erik? – She asked desperately clinging to Erik's sleeve.

\- Tell me what you think of my face. – He repeated.

\- I won't lie to you. – She sighed softly, looking Erik in the eye. His cat- eyes glowed at her reflecting pain and interest at the same time. – I won1t say you are handsome, as you are not. – She continued, slowly extending a hand to touch that deformed, wet face. – But I wouldn't have you any other way, Erik. I love you just as I love Mahtab. I don't think you or her disgusting. You two are my family and you can't be replaced by anyone, Erik.

\- Not even Chagny? – He inquired.

\- Of course, not. Erik, I am not interested in Raoul any more. He means nothing to me but a friend I hardly even meet. I love you, Erik, and only you.

\- So if Erik just disappeared from your life… wouldn't Chagny have moved in with you and you have raised Flo as your perfect little son together?

\- Erik, what do you think of me?! – She gasped. – Do you think I could cheat on you?

\- No, no, Christine, as you were faithful to your poor Erik always. No. I just… hoped that you will find someone more worthy of your love than I am if Erik disappears. No?

\- Of course, not! I would cry for you and mourn you the rest of my life. So don't even think of leaving me. You would cause my death, eventually. And I hope that's not what you want.

\- Would it really pain you so much? – He asked softly, not believing his ears.

\- It would, more than you can imagine.

\- Oh Christne… I am sorry… terribly sorry about what I caused you. I thought I was nothing than a nuisance to everyone… including you. That you married me out of honor, because you were true to your word… and out of pity.

\- I married you and stayed with you out of love. Please believe me.

\- I do now. – He hugged Christine closer to himself and rested her head on his bony shoulder.

They sat like that for a time, in that boat, Erik soaked to the skin, with a bleeding wound on the top of his head, Christine hugged his neck and placed a soft kiss on his face. Erik stroke her shoulder gently, then kissed her forehead with those malformed cold lips.

\- Do you really want to come home, Erik…?

\- Yes. – He nodded.

\- Thank Heaven… and where is Mahtab?

\- In the house. Please don't freak out, Christine, but Erik had to… remove her clothes.

\- Why? – She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

\- Because they need to dry out. – Erik explained cautiously.

\- Did she… fall into the lake?! – She asked.

\- Yes. – He nodded penitently. – She was jumping too much in the boat and…

\- Is she all right?

\- Yes she is! – Erik assured quickly. – Please don't worry, my angel, she is now safe and sound in there.

\- Thank God. – She wiped her forehead.

As they entered the house, Mahtab was still in the corner, looking at the wall.

\- They don't make noise, Papa. What has happened to the dragons?

\- They might be sleeping. – Erik lifted her up. – And you should as well. – He smiled and placed Mahtab back in the coffin and covered her up.

Christine wasn't too happy to see her child in that horrid object, but it was the only comfortable place in the house by the lake, so she did not remark it. She only gestured for Erik to follow her to the Louis – Philippe room and as Erik did, they just stood in the completely empty room for some minutes, then Christine asked.

\- What did you want to do here, Erik? Playing that pitiful and sinful Phantom of the Opera game again?

\- No. – He shook his head. – I was fed up with that play for a lifetime.

\- Then why have you brought Mahtab here?

\- It was just for tonight. I wanted to travel somewhere else with her tomorrow morning.

\- You mean today?

\- Is it already… past midnight? – He took out his pocket watch to see it was already six in the morning. – Oh… it seems Erik was thinking for hours.

\- Erik, before we go home and go on with life just as before, you have to promise me something.

\- I promise I will never leave you again and never take Mahtab with me.

\- Yes, Erik, but you have to promise me something else as well.

\- What that may be? – He lifted his throbbing head up with concern.

\- You will never ever kill anyone, Erik. Not even to protect the child. It's enough of murder. I accepted your past and never said a hurtful word about it, you would lie if you stated otherwise.

\- You really never did. – Erik agreed.

\- But your future shall not be about killing people. Not even a single person, Erik, as I will, with a broken heart, be obliged to leave you. But as I would not want to leave you any other way, I would end my life. So if you kill one more person, you literally kill me with it. And don't think I won't find out, Erik. As I will!

He stared blankly in front of himself for some time, then sighed and put his enormously large and skinny hand on Christine's shoulder.

\- Erik promises he won't kill anyone ever again. He wants to end this section of his life as well, Christine. Murders are not good for Erik either. Just as this headache he got for the siren trick. – He tapped his head and looked at the blood left on his fingers.

\- Erik, I think we should go home now. – Christine said with concern. - We will have to take care of your wound.

\- It's nothing… - He chuckled softly, but he finished his sentence with a painful grimace on his face. – But well… it will be better at home, I agree.

Finally Erik could lay down in his own bed, after a lot of happenings – a stressful day, an accident, an injury and a huge promise. But the most important thing was – he could lay down being a hundred percent sure about his wife's love for him.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter XXVIII.

He slept for a long time again, for sure. He did not know how much, but as he lifted his head up from the pillows and looked around the room he saw the sun was already at set. They arrived home in the morning – seems like he slept for a whole day. There was someone sitting in the armchair next to the bed, he could see it was a male figure, but the room was very poorly lit, so he couldn't recognize his features. Only one candle was lit, at the end table, behind the shadowy figure, so his face wasn't getting any light.

\- Mohammed, is that you? – He called out to make sure if it was really the Daroga or not.

\- Yes, Erik, I am here. – The soothing assurance was coming right away.

\- What in Allah's name are you doing in my bedroom? – Erik sat up in bed, examining if the covers were properly put over his body. Thankfully he was wearing sleepwear, but when and how did he change was beyond him.

\- Watching you sleep.

\- That must be a splendid sight, don't you have any more important tasks to do?

\- Not at the moment. Everyone is resting.

\- When did you come?

\- Christine called me here the night when you fled underground with Mahtab so I could watch your son while she tried to hammer some common sense in your skull – head.

\- Thank you. – He sighed. – Who would think you will spend so much time babysitting my children?

\- And you.

\- I am not in the need of babysitting, thanks. – He retorted angrily.

\- Not anymore. You seem to talk in normal sentences now.

\- Why, wasn't I? – Erik scratched his head in confusion. He noticed the bandage on the top of his head, and instantly remembered back to the huge hit on his head by the paddle.

\- No. You would stutter about various happenings in your past and call for your mother or Christine for a day.

\- Why?

\- Fever. You were burning up.

\- What on Earth had caused that?

\- Swimming in that filthy lake and the open wound on your head. By the way poor little Moonlight was in a rough form as well, but she is now better.

\- What has happened to Mahtab?

\- She swallowed a bit of that water. That caused her stomach problems, the poor dear. And her eyes were a bit of infected. But as I say, now she is better, she ate some rice for dinner. She must be on a diet for some days.

\- And what about me?

\- The doctor took care of your wound and ceased your temperature, he said you may get up but be careful with mental and physical work for a week.

\- Thank God. – He sighed in relief and wiped his forehead.

The coming week was so peaceful. He did not work too much, only was reading some books and resting on the couch most of the time. Shadow was a great stool for his legs, he kept them resting upon the dog's warm and furry back. Sometimes the animal would even lick his feet, which partly amused, partly annoyed him. Who would think he will once have a dog? Shadow was a loyal and friendly companion to him and his children. He also loved Christine, but he was always in Erik's heels. Shadow chose him as Master at the first sight, and would obey him. Erik wasn't in pain any more. His head bothered him from time to time, but other than that, he couldn't complain. On the contrary, he felt much spoiled. Mahtab was asked by both Christine and the Persian to let Papa rest, so he was mostly left alone, without the child's nearly constant nagging, but when someone took care of him, he was treated as a king or even better. Christine put pillows under his feet and back to make the couch more comfortable for him, and would press a gentle kiss on his forehead and face every time she passed him. Other times it would have bothered him to be so much spoiled, but for some reason, he did not mind it now. Secretly he even enjoyed it and craved for more. He became a bit needy and would ask favors of Christine so she would serve him and be kind to him. Not as she wasn't kind to him any other time – but it felt much better now.

Christine knew well that Erik wasn't in such a bad shape as he sometimes pretended to be in – but she was amused of what a good actor Erik was, and finally, she was able to love on him as much as she wanted. Erik accepted hugs, cuddling and kisses, and did not have any urgent work to do to walk away from her. Christine wanted to make up to Erik's self – hatred by giving him more love than before. She tried her best to show her love to Erik, but as he became so insecure over a badly – worded sentence, she knew he needed to feel more affection and love to be able to trust her.

Erik's "Birthday" was coming. It wasn't the 29th, but only the 28th, as 1890 wasn't a leap – year, and Christine would have to wait up until 1892 to celebrate Erik's official Birthday, which will be a round anniversary – he will be turning sixty. Christine, however, didn't want to wait two more years to be able to celebrate a Birthday. Erik had so many left out Birthdays during these decades, as, when he was a child, he did not even know his exact date of birth, and so it was never celebrated. He found out the date when his mother desperately sobbed "Only once in a leap – year can a woman give birth to such a monster- no wonder you were born then!" When he grew up, he didn't find the importance to keep track of his age, and no one, not even himself, found Birthdays important. There was no one to wish him a Happy Birthday – why the fuss? After he met and finally married Christine, he was more than happy to celebrate Christine's Birthday, which was on 20th August, in the middle of beautiful summertime, as he finally had someone to shower with gifts, and cook for. He still did not tell his birth date to Christine by himself, as he did not expect his to be celebrated in return. Only after the good and sweet girl asked him about it, he briefly told her he was born on 29th February. Christine at first thought he was just joking around, as she would not believe someone was able to be born on that particular day of the year, but after he reassured her, she accepted the fact. He still did not find it to be worthy of mentioning, but Christine was a stubborn little girl and if she wanted to do something – she did it. As she wanted to celebrate Erik's Birthday, they finally agreed in celebrating it every four years, when it actually shows up in the calendar.

But now, it wasn't enough for the wife. Erik deserved a Birthday in every year – just as anyone else. If it is not the 29th, let it be the 28th then, or the 1st of March – or why not both?

\- Mahtab, dear! – Christine approached the small girl one day, when Erik was composing something, locked in his study. – Do you want to help Mama with a surprise?

\- What kind of surprise? – She lifted her head up from her book in interest. – For whom?

\- Papa. – Christine smiled warmly, and hugged Mahtab, whispering in her ear: - His Birthday is coming.

\- Hooray! – Mahtab jumped up and down in excitement.

\- Sssssh! You have to promise Mama that you won't say a single word to Papa about what we are doing, please promise, Mahtab.

\- I promise. Not a word. – Mahtab nodded understanding, just as an adult.

\- I need you to help me. Will you accompany me to some places? For example we are going to see Tonton Mohammed.

\- All right! – Mahtab put on her jacket and tried her best to button it for herself, but the buttons and button holes kept tricking her – she always buttoned it the wrong way, and she wasn't able to tie her shoes either. Erik kept showing her the right way to do it, but she was unable to get the hang of it.

\- Come, dear, I will help you. – Christine offered kindly, but Mahtab shook her head.

\- No. I have to learn to do it myself. Papa said one time there will be no one to help me, but myself. I have to tie my shoes and cravat.

\- There is no need for you to wear a cravat at all. – Christine tried to guide her daughter back on the normal way of getting dressed for a girl, but Mahtab did not seem to care about it.

\- But yes, and I would like to get a watch.

\- Watch?

\- Yes, a pocket watch.

\- Oh, Mahtab…

\- I can tell the time. I am a big boy enough to carry a watch.

\- Well, we will discuss it with Papa later. – She sighed.

Of course, women wore watches as well, but not a type of watch that Mahtab was referring to. It would be another twisted milestone for Mahtab to follow men's path – and that was something Christine loathed the thought of, more than anything. This was one of the reasons she wanted to speak to the Daroga as well – Erik did not seem to care much about this issue. He simply stated he loved Mahtab as a boy and a girl equally, so it was all the same to him.

As Mahtab was jumping around them in the Persian's living room, Christine carefully worded her fears to Mohammaed- Ismael. The good old man was thinking for some minutes, then looked at Mahtab, who clearly enjoyed herself, and nodded.

\- Christine, I know it is a strange situation, but I would not do anything about it right now.

\- But like this, even Erik's plan about raising Mahtab spiritually, is flawed

\- Oh, do you mean that she should be raised by my religion?

\- Yes, this was the original plan, wasn't it? How can we teach her to a woman's role when she keeps wearing men's clothing, acting like a boy?

\- We have talked about this with Erik before, and I understand him. He told me he planned to do this if Mahtab grows up as an ordinary girl, and is interested by girly issues, like her clothes or more ladylike things. But she seems to dislike this, and to be honest, Erik is happy about it.

\- Why? It fills me with worry.

\- Christine, I know you would like to have a girl like anyone else, you would like to have a small princess. But you have to understand that Mahtab isn't that way, and it wasn't Erik who turned her like this. She was born this way, only that she is old enough now to see that herself, Erik is happy about it, because, as he said, with a face like hers, Mahtab could never lead a life like a woman should. An ugly man's life is torture. An ugly girl's life is a disaster. He said this.

\- I see. So you say… I should accept Mahtab's choice and not bother her about it? Is there no hope for her to be an ordinary girl?

\- Oh, Christine… you know well, just as I and Erik do, that Mahtab will never be an ordinary girl. If she was playing with dolls and dressed in the most girlish outfit, she still wouldn't be an ordinary girl. No, there is absolutely no hope for that. – The Daroga shook his head and pointed at the small child with a sad look.

Christine nodded, dried some tears out of her eyes, and asked no more questions.

Erik started to be suspicious. Christine again, was acting as she was keeping a secret. No matter how much he asked her, she would only smile at him and say nothing.

\- Christine, I hope you didn't publish my work again. – He groaned at her suspiciously rolling his eyes.

\- No. I accepted you don't want it. I just still don't understand, why.

\- Because if I get commissions, I should do what, Christine?

\- Well, maybe write what's asked…?

\- That's something I can't do, Christine.

\- Why? You are an incredibly talented composer.

\- I can't work on pressure. I write what's on my mind and in my heart, but if I am asked to "write this and that, change this key to x major, remove this dance, and rewrite this act…" it is not for me, Christine, and I know I would terribly fail. Failure is something I had in my life enough already, there is no need for more. And besides, how should I go and conduct concerts?

\- Why, you invented that mask, and you look like anybody else. I would say you look handsome if you wear it.

\- Yes. And what if it slips off, or gets accidentally ripped off, what if my fake nose can't handle my sweat (conducting is a hard work for hours, especially if you have to wear a full evening suit…), what if it gets wet by heavy rain, what if, Heaven forbid, they want to take my photograph? Being a famous new composer, I sure would have to face that. If you look closely, you STILL can see it is not my real face. On the photographs, it would be even more noticeable. Oh, Christine, only God knows how much Erik would love to be a famous composer, celebrated by whole Paris. But… it can't come true. I know you wanted to make me happy and meant it well, but please, please Christine, don't act out of love the next time without asking me about it.

\- I promise, Erik.

\- Good. And NOW what is your little secret, eh?

\- I don't know what are you talking about, Erik.

\- You are acting strange. Christine… Erik asks you again, please answer truthfully: are you expecting a child?

\- No! Why you keep asking, my Erik? Would you want to have a third one? – She placed a gentle kiss on Erik's forehead.

\- God forbid, no! – He waved his hands in front of himself.

\- You don't have to be afraid. – Christine sighed in disappointment.

She found it a bit of hurtful that Erik reacted this way about a new child. She always wanted a big family when she was a child. It was mainly because she was an only child, and she would so much appreciate a sibling many times. Maybe that's why she loved Raoul so much. He used to be some kind of brother figure for her. After her beloved Papa passed away, she wouldn't have been so lonely if she had a sister or brother to share her life with, and she could only hope that she will give birth to a lot of children if she gets married. She would have liked to have another baby, so she will have three children, but the way Erik said "God forbid, no!" she was sure it will be only a dream.

\- How can you tell if a woman is with a child, or not, Daroga? – The sudden question surprised the Daroga as he was enjoying a good coffee on his Sunday visit at Erik's home. Christine left the room for some minutes, and Erik sent nervous glances towards the door as he leaned closer to softly ask this question that was bothering him.

\- Well… she has some kind of symptoms… - The Persian replied. – You already have two children, Erik, how did Christine act when she was pregnant?

\- She did tend to desire some kind of flavors more… she was sick in the stomach… she was sleepy…

\- And?

\- She isn't now. That is what bothers me the most. I cannot see any symptoms and yet I am still afraid she might be pregnant. She has some kind of secret, Erik knows she has.

\- Erik, calm down… it isn't about that.

\- About what? – Erik inquired. – Do you KNOW about her secret?

\- No. – The Persian shook his head quickly, as he realized he had told too much, but Erik wasn't a stupid man.

\- What is it, Daroga, out with it!

\- No… I promised her that I won't say a word to you…

\- About what? Is she pregnant?

\- No.

\- Then what is it? Tell Erik!

\- Erik, stop!

\- Tell Erik! – He jumped up from his armchair and grabbed the poor Daroga by his neck, when Christine arrived back in the room.

\- Erik! – She screamed in horror as she saw Erik's skeletal hands around the Persian's neck, but he turned back with a casual look on his face, pretending that he only adjusted Mohammed's cravat, before sitting back in his chair.

\- What's that my dear? – Erik asked as calm and polite as possible.

\- Oh… nothing. – She sighed, thanking God in her mind that she stepped in the room just at the right time.

When the long – awaited day finally arrived, Christine woke Erik up with a kiss on the lips. She smiled at him when he opened his eyes sleepily, and wanted to turn to his other side, but his wife gently stroke his hair.

\- Happy Birthday, my little husband. – She cooed.

\- To you as well. – Erik yawned, just assuming, half – asleep that Christine wished him a good morning, but suddenly his eyes popped wide open. – What?

\- Happy Birthday. Erik dearest! – She repeated, laughing.

\- How…? But…

\- I know, it isn't a year like that, but you DO have a Birthday, Erik, sweetie. I want to celebrate your Birthday, normally, in every year, as any other people do.

\- You know Erik isn't like other people… - He smiled. – But he thanks you all the same for being such a good wife to him.

\- I am so glad I am a good wife to you. That's all I have ever wanted to be.

\- Erik couldn't ask for a better wife. – He kissed her gently on the forehead.

\- And Christine couldn't ask for a better husband. And a better father to her children.

Erik's newly invented Birthday was one of the happiest and most peaceful days of his life. He received gifts from everyone, even the Daroga came to visit him, and gave him a present, he enjoyed a great meal, a fantastic wine and a cigar he loved, but the most precious gifts weren't these, and he had to admit, it wasn't even Christine's singing to him, or not even their intimate time spent together in bed, after they put the children to sleep that night. He received his best gift from Florian. When he picked his young son up, the beautiful little boy looked him in the eye, was babbling something on baby language for a few minutes, hugged his face from both sides with his small hands, then, totally audibly and understandably said:

\- Hello, Papa!

These were his first words ever spoken to anyone. They were for Erik, accompanied by a wide smile. Erik wasn't able to say a single word as he heard his tiny son's voice for the first time. He closed his eyes as tears were blurring his vision – and suddenly he felt like being a father was beautiful because of these moments.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter XXIX.

Christine spoiled Erik more and more, day after day. They led a happy life together. Erik thought he had been in a happy marriage before – but it was nothing compared to this Heaven on Earth he felt himself in right at this time. He had an adoring wife who showed him affection that he was now willing to accept, he had two adorable children to play with and fill their tiny skulls with new things every day, he lived surrounded by music and love. Christine wanted him to finally make peace with his face and body, so she complimented Erik about the things she liked about his appearance, as, however hard to believe it was, she really learned to like some features of Erik throughout the years. Of course, there were still things she did not find attractive about her husband – but the fear and horror she felt the first time she saw that face faded away, and unpleasant memories no longer haunted her. Only affection and love for her husband remained, and this made her realize the good sides of Erik's looks. She liked to stroke and play with Erik's hair, for example. Though Erik was nearly all bald at the top of his head, he had kind of much hair at the back of his head and neck that fell down to his shoulders. It was so soft and silky, and she loved to twist it around her fingers.

\- What do you think I am, a furry dog, to pet, eh? – Erik sometimes remarked, with his usual half- teasing way of endearment.

She also loved how Erik's eyes reflected the light in a dark room and glowed a goldish yellow. Back in the Opera, she found that fact creepy and frightening, but now, as those eyes weren't showing anger and bitterness or sadness and plea all the time, they weren't the same any more. They lit up in a dark room soothingly, giving her the calming reassurance that Erik was there with her, and nothing or no one could harm her as long as Erik is watching over her.

Erik had long fingers, and large hands. One of his hands was as big as both of Christine's. Yes, they were bony and skeletal, like all his body, but Christine liked how long his fingers were. Yes, his hands and feet were cold all the time, but she did not feel it as the icy touch of Death any more. Sometimes it was unpleasant to feel his cold hands touching the back of her bare neck, but on a hotter summer day it could still be a refresh. She asked Erik sometimes to keep his hand somewhere on her to cool her a bit.

He wasn't that pale any more- during these years of marriage, seeing more sunlight by going out frequently with his family, Erik's hands gained some tan that made at least his hands look more natural colored. As his face was hidden behind that human mask, his face was still pale, but not as much as he was in the Opera. Taking better care of his health made Erik look better. Although he was very skinny, he did gain some weight as well, compared to his form ten years ago. Christine assumed he could not gain more weight for some reason than his current size – maybe it was just genetics with Erik, as she cooked meals regularly for him, which he mostly ate.

Erik found the compliments unusual, but very dear to his soul and they were so good to hear. He never received so much praise before, not even from his beloved wife. It was unusual, but heartwarming.

But it did not stop there. The loving wife wanted to make Erik feel better about his appearance not only by telling him positive feedback about how he looked – she wanted Erik to see it himself. She had a vanity table in their bedroom, and that mirror was covered anytime when Christine wasn't looking in it for doing her make – up, or hair, but she got fed up with this. She removed the cloth from the mirror and sat Erik down in front of it.

\- Why are you doing this to me, Christine? – He moaned in disbelief when he realized what she was up to.

\- I want you to look into this mirror, Erik, and tell me what you see in it.

\- A monster with a death's head. – He softly admitted.

\- That's not the right way to think, Erik. Not anymore. I want you to search for things you like about your face.

\- There's nothing I like about it, really.

\- Try to think of Mahtab's face then. – She offered. – Do you see her as a monster as well?

\- Not now. But I used to, after her birth.

\- But now, do you like her face?

\- I like her personality- but to tell the truth her face no longer bothers me either. If I have to list something, I love her smile. She smiles at me with so much love you can't describe- and it makes devil's little face look a lot more beautiful.

\- Erik…

\- I know what you want, Christine, and Erik thanks you for it. But he doesn't think he could get used to, or like his face as it is. Ever. Erik is thankful that Christine no longer thinks him as a monster and she learned to love his features – he can't thank you enough for that – and for accepting our deformed child just as she was like anyone else but there are no miracles, Christine. Erik won't like anything of his face – ever. The most that could happen is that he won't start retching immediately if he looks into a mirror within time. He did not try to look into one for so long time, but he will try his best to get used to his own face if that's what you want for him to accomplish.

\- Erik… I just wish you loved yourself.

\- It is enough if you and my children love me. It is more than I could have ever hoped for.

Being not really successful in making Erik learn to love his appearance, Christine did not lose all hopes, she also wanted Erik to feel better about their private time together. Before she just accepted the fact that Erik was only willingly make love to her in complete darkness, so that she was only able to see his eyes glowing, but she decided it was enough of that. She wanted to see Erik, all of him. There wasn't a time before that he undressed in front of her. The only time she saw him in underwear were when she took care of him while he was sick, and Erik wasn't even aware of her removing his clothing. On a nice day in the spring, it all had to change. April sunshine lit the room, and Christine wanted to spend time with Erik – in the morning. At first Erik was a bit reluctant, but after some minutes of endearments, kisses and hugs… he wasn't able to say no to his beloved Christine any more. That was the first time he let her see him, as God created him, and to his surprise, the dear and sweet girl only told so sweet things about him… even though they did the deed from time to time in the past, and they already had two children, Erik felt he had just lived his wedding night, even though it was daytime. Finally lovemaking was really about making love. It was so much better to do it this way- and that caused Erik to be a Don Juan Triumphant more often to his wife – despite his age, he tried to please Christine (and of course, himself) as much as possible.

Not only spiritual things changed in the family. There were some other things that got changed as well.

One morning, Christine just left the house in the morning, with a giant smile, and returned some hours later, with an even bigger smile and kissed Erik on the lips.

\- What has happened, my dear girl? – Erik laughed, knowing that something made Christine really happy.

\- Erik dear, I fixed things up a bit.

\- What do you mean? – Erik asked curiously.

\- Well. Let me introduce myself, Monsieur Spöke. I am Mademe Christine Spöke.

\- Oh, Christine… but why? – He smiled, but tears were forming in his eyes from being touched to the depth of his soul.

\- Erik, it was a mistake I did not take your name when we got married… but as I told you back then, at the Opera everyone knew me as Christine Daaé… but it was a mistake to keep my maiden name. It could be felt that I did not accept you. Did it, Erik, dear?

\- Well…. To be honest… sometimes… yes. – He nodded. – I took this name to be able to marry you and the fact that you don't want to wear it made me a bit of sad deep in my heart.

\- I am sorry about that, Erik. But from now on, I am Madame Spöke, and I wear that name proudly.

\- Oh, Christine, my dear, sweet Christine. – Erik knelt down to kiss Christine's shoes to show his deepest gratitude for her acceptance.

\- And I fixed the children's names as well. They only wear our last name now, but I have another surprise.

\- What's that? – Erik lifted his head up to look his wife in the eye.

\- Mahtab got a second name.

\- Christine, dear, you know I don't like two names…

\- Her middle name is Geneviève.

Erik fell silent and kissed Christine's hand. Oh, she remembered back to his sentence about naming his daughter after his poor unhappy mother if he could chose now… oh how thoughtful his sweet wife was!

Erik was so happy and touched to see the newly printed birth certificates of his children: "Mahtab Geneviève Spöke born in Paris, 2nd November 1885" and "Erik Florian Spöke born in Paris 7th September, 1888".

Said children were in a flawless health, thank Heavens.

Mahtab received her pocket watch she wanted so much for her fifth Birthday. She was so happy to have it. Finally, she was considered to be old enough to have a watch of her own. She would announce the time in every two minutes as she was squeezing the large round watch in both of her hands. Erik patted her head proudly and kissed her forehead.

His little daughter was old enough to learn to read and write as well. Christine still thought that Mahtab should start school a year later, and there she will be able to learn everything she has to know, with other children of her age, but Erik finally convinced her about Mahtab can't go to public school, because of her looks, and anyway, she is too clever even now, they should not wait for one more year to start learning how to read and write – she would be too much bored. And boredom results in misbehaving as he found out, looking back at his own childhood.

\- Erik will need Christine's help with this, my dear. – He confessed bashfully. – I can make her learn the alphabet to read, but writing, you see, isn't Erik's strong spot. He can't teach Mahtab to write nicely as he can't do it either. But Christine, his dear Christine has such a beautiful cursive.

\- Oh, so you ask me to teach her to write. – Christine smiled.

\- Yes, my dear. – Erik nodded. – We will teach her together.

Mahtab was so excited when her beloved Papa returned one day with a book under his arm and announced it was for her. She jumped up and down in excitement, and couldn't help but was curious of what that book was about. It was nice and colored, with many pictures in it.

\- It is your ABC book, Mahtab. – Erik sat her on his lap. – You will learn how to read.

\- So I will be able to read all books?

\- Yes.

\- All the books in the whole house? – She was shaking with great joy and excitement, looking around and her eyes met the numerous books that were placed on the endless bookselves around them in the house.

\- All the books in the whole world, my dear child. – Erik smiled.

The ABC book became Mahtab's Bible. She carried it everywhere and was looking through it all the time, finding words starting by any chosen letter everywhere she went. She was able to read shorter texts in some weeks, and spell easier words in a few days. She was constantly practicing, she woke up and went to bed with spelling words. Erik liked the fact of his small girl being so hardworking about something she wanted to do, and encouraged her a lot, praising her if she spelled or read something right. Christine gave her a small notebook in which she wrote the letters of the alphabet at the beginning of each line with her beautiful handwriting, and asked Mahtab to try to draw them just as she saw in the beginning of the line. It was a way harder task to do than spelling and reading, but she was able to do it as well within time. But the notebook got full so quickly. She ran out of empty pages, so she had no more room to write to. But she found out what to do.

Suddenly Erik and Christine found marks of white chalk on the wooden floor in the drawing room, music room and even in the hall's stone floor. At first, they could not see anything out of it, but as they examined it more, Erik suddenly exclaimed in surprise.

\- Christine, look! – He pointed at a spot under the piano, and he smiled widely as he recognized the words "Mahtab love Papa", readably written by a small hand on the floor.

Erik was actually happy that Mahtab found a chalk to write with. This child wanted to write so much that no one would be able to supply her with notebooks and paper. Chalk was easy to mop up from floors, the only thing Mahtab was told she wasn't allowed to write on any of the walls or furniture. She obeyed to these rules, so there wasn't any trouble coming out of her education in this field.

After Flo's first words, his vocabulary and talkativeness skyrocketed. Before he would not make too much noise, he hardly ever cried, just was babbling some, but at this time, he would never shut his small face. He would repeat everything, like a parrot, amusing, or slightly annoying Erik, but he knew that this was normal with a young child. Now there were two kids talking to him, from two sides. Mahtab was a more pleasant partner to converse with, as she had her own ideas as well, other than just repeating his words after him, but he adored his little son the same. Flo had a lower – pitched voice than Mahtab did, he sounded different, yet he had a sweet voice. Mahtab's was nothing special, just as any normal four year old girl's, but Flo already had a special kind of sweet ringing behind his, very childlike, yet already kind of "manly" voice.

Mahtab would help and guide her small brother around the house, holding his hand, which amused their parents a lot. She took care of him as Erik took care of her. She kept ordering him around, or reasoning why he shouldn't do something. Erik was happy to see that the siblings got along very well, he was afraid Mahtab would be jealous of her brother, but thankfully, the small girl thought Flo as a friend, like Cadence was for her, long time ago. Erik thought the automaton was at least good for one thing – it made Mahtab learn how to cope with another child. Flo, as he wasn't able to talk so well yet, called Mahtab "Maaah" for short, keeping the "a" up for long time. They played together a lot, Flo was following her around, and looked at her amazed when she practiced on the piano. He tried to walk closer and reach out for the keys, but he was yet too short to reach them from under the piano keyboard, and he fell back on his rear, sitting on the ground. He did not mind it too much, though. He sat under the piano, looking up with an amazed look, enjoying the music.

When summer ended, and Florian turned 2 years old, he showed broad hints of musical talent. Something that Mahtab did not. She loved to hit the piano with both hands, but she never sang, she only loved to hear her parents sing. Flo often hummed melodies he never heard before, while playing with wooden blocks and if Erik started to sing a melody, he was able to sing along and finish it. He could improvise, even at such a young age. Florian had perfect pitch, just like Erik. The proud father figured it out when Mahtab started playing the violin one afternoon, and her violin wasn't correctly tuned. Erik noticed it, but did not have time to warn the child, as Flo approached her and looked her in the eye, stating:

\- Bad.

\- What bad? – Mahtab asked.

\- Baaad! – Flo exclaimed and hummed the right concert pitch A for Mahtab to offer help. – Good this. You do bad. Bad music.

\- Papa! Flo says I am playing bad. – She looked at Erik, asking for defense.

\- No, dear. He only stated you did not fully tune the violin. He is right. – Erik chuckled.

A musical offspring – finally! Erik was determined to develop Florian's talent as soon and as well as possible. They played music- based games together, with Mahtab and the small boy. Christine sang to the children as well, and they were the happiest in these times, when the whole family was together in the drawing room, or the nursery, singing songs or unnoticeably having music lessons together. Erik showed clapping rhythm, whistling, humming and singing to Flo. Music was Flo's favorite activity, just like Erik's. It was his life, to be precise. He would play drums on everything – on the top of the table, on plates, hitting a spoon against a filled glass, and kick his tiny feet against some surface to make up rhythm patterns. He was able to remember even more complicated melodies. Erik always imagined a life like this – singing together with his family until they swoon away with delight.

Christmas came, Christmas of 1890.

It was a Christmas with a huge snowstorm outside, it started at the evening of 24th December and it kept up on 25th morning as well, but the family's happiness couldn't be distracted by it. Florian was enjoying his toy drum he received as a Christmas gift, and Mahtab was so happy for the electric train set Erik made for her. It was so touching to see the children happily and delightedly playing together.

\- Flo! Come and be the conductor, will you? Please.

\- What to do? – He walked to Mahtab's side, examining the train set.

\- Whistle when I turn it on! Trains go away only if someone whistles for them.

\- Why?

\- I don't know. – Mahtab shrugged. – It is just the way it is. Please whistle, I can't do it.

\- Good. – Flo nodded, being happy that he got such a big and responsible task to do.

Erik chuckled softly as he was watching his children from his favorite armchair, but suddenly, the idyllic Christmas scene was distracted by a painful scream, coming from outside.

Erik jumped up from his chair nervously. And stormed out of the drawing room after briefly trying to convince the children of nothing was wrong and he would be back soon.

When he arrived in the bedroom, he was shocked to see Christine laying on the bed in obviously a lot of pain. Yes, she lay down half an hour earlier as she was feeling a bit under the weather, she complained about her stomach, but this, as Erik examined the situation, wasn't just her Christimas dinner didn't agree with her.

\- Christine, what has happened? – Erik rushed to the bed, looking at Christine in horror.

\- Erik… help…

\- If only I knew what was bothering you… I could help… - His voice turned fainter and his hands were trembling with fear.

\- Help! – She grabbed Erik's long fingers and squeezed them with so much strength, Erik was afraid she might break them.

Erik nearly lost his consciousness out of worry, but he knew he had to stay strong, because there was no way to get the doctor here from downtown, to the suburbs of Paris, in this huge of a snowstorm on Christmas day. Whatever the cause of this much pain was, he had to find it out and take care of his sick wife all alone.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter XXX.

\- Erik, please… please…- Christine moaned in agony, while her worrying husband tried to wash her forehead with a damp cloth. She did not seem to be feverish, but she sweated a lot.

\- It is all right, my love, Erik is here, just relax please. Save your strength, my dear. Just please try to rest. As soon as the storm gets a bit smoother, Erik is going to fetch you the doctor.

Yet Erik was so worked up he wanted to scream, his enchanting voice remained as calm and reassuring as possible, only a bit of higher pitched with fear. He tried to sound as casual as possible not to make his suffering wife to be alarmed. There was silence for a time, Christine was gasping and Erik tried to make her feel as comfortable as it was possible. She closed her eyes as she started to get tired from nearly constant pain. She bit her lower lip and took some shuddering breaths. Suddenly she felt a very strange and unique sensation she experienced before, she knew it… but it can't be true… can it?

\- Erik… I think I know what's wrong…- Christine opened her clear blue eyes while her face was turning pale with pain and sudden realization.

\- What is it, my dear? – He leaned closer with worry.

\- I felt this kind of pain when… only when I… became a mother…

\- What? - Erik gasped in horror. – But… that can't be it…

\- I think I am going to give birth. – She squeezed Erik's wrist, while she was once more distracted by a terrible cramp.

\- But you told Erik you weren't with a child! – He exclaimed in disbelief.

\- I… I thought… I wasn't. Really, Erik… believe me…

\- You… you can't be serious. – Erik's skull face reflected sheer panic. His jaw dropped and he started trembling so intensely he was afraid he might fall apart.

\- I… did not feel it, Erik… like I did before… no nausea… no sleepiness… nothing…

\- And what about… your… your… - Erik blushed bright red while trying to talk about things that only were women's business, but he had to be sure. Maybe if he tried to act like a doctor other than an ordinary man, it would be easier.

\- I had my menses in every month. – She looked away in shame, but she knew she had to discuss it with him. Does it maybe indicate a problem? She knew she should not have it while being pregnant, and she did not have it with Mahtab or Flo.

\- Then it can't be a pregnancy. – Erik stated somewhat calmer. – I have never heard of such a case before.

\- But then explain the labour, will you? – She asked nervously.

\- It might be some other kind of pain, you only compare it to labour. Please relax.

\- I try! – Christine screamed, but she only was able to grab Erik's fingers again. – Erik, we are having a baby!

\- Stop this nonsense. – He sighed in frustration. – You are NOT giving birth.

\- I know when I am giving birth, not you! You are a man, you never did it! I did twice! I know what it's like! – She sobbed in pain, while clinging to Erik's fingers.

\- All right, calm down Christine, you are going to break my fingers.

\- Bring some cloths and hot water please… the midwife always did it.

\- You… you are too sure about this is a child. You… lied to me!

\- I did not!

\- You did! There is no way a woman won't notice being with a child, let alone the third one!

\- Erik I did not lie to you!

\- You did! Erik asked you more times if you were with a child and you said no! Every time you said no!

\- Erik I don't know why is that… but…

\- Erik exactly KNOWS why that is, Christine! You knew Erik doesn't want another one! You did know it! You kept it in secret so Erik won't notice!

\- Erik how can you say such a thing? – She, for some seconds, even forgot about her pain, she got so upset about her husband's sudden accusations.

\- You forced Erik into this situation!

\- I did not!

\- Now look what you've done! We stuck here on Christmas Day with a childbirth you are giving in a snowstorm so I can't get help, just because you didn't tell Erik you were expecting! If I knew about it I could have come up with a plan for a situation like this in advance!

\- Erik believe me, I swear to God…

\- Don't swear upon a lie, woman! – Erik screamed in her face, losing all of his patience.

\- On my father's grave! – She yelled back in desperation, looking her shaking husband in the eye.

Erik did not reply. He was shaking, biting his lips, his teeth were chattering, he was rolling his eyes and Christine could have sworn he was going to end her life in seconds. When Erik was in this state of mind, it was a wiser move not to talk to him any longer if one did not want to get injured or… die. She did not dare to speak any more, but her pain kicked in again. Erik just tried to compose himself to be able to act somewhat normally and headed to the adjacent master bathroom to get things they needed for the process awaiting them. He couldn't leave his wife in this condition and just let her suffer… whether she did or did not lie to him about this child, he has to help it see the sunlight. After they will see what to do next.

Mahtab and Flo were alarmed as Papa did not come out of the bedroom for a long time. They were just left there in the drawing room, unattended in this huge chaos that was going on. Mahtab could sense something wasn't going right. Her Mama gave out strange noises and Papa was mad about something. He yelled at Mama. Flo just lifted his head up and walked closer to his older sister, curiously looking at her.

\- Maaa, what happen?

\- I don't know. Maybe Mama is in pain.

\- Why Mama in pain?

\- I don't know. – She patted his brother's shoulder. – But everything will be all right.

\- Sure you?

\- I am sure, don't worry. Papa is with her. Papa knows everything.

\- What we do?

\- We should do nothing. We go and guard the house until Mama feels better. Papa is there and he knows everything. He saves Mama. I trust him. – She closed her mismatched little eyes and tried to relax, even though she was afraid as well. But she hoped and knew that Papa will make everything better.

They were marching through the house like small soldiers, with Flo's toy drum, and they went to the nursery to work out a plan if someone might want to get in. At least they were occupied with their own little game and did not try to enter the bedroom, only once, but Mahtab found the door locked, so she found it a better idea not to try it again. Let Papa work in peace!

The childbirth, however complicated and messy it might have seemed to be, took noticeably less time than the two childbirths Christine had had before. In an hour everything was over and Erik was holding a small red, bloody thing in his skeletal hands. It was a baby boy, really. Yet, the couple couldn't be happy about its arrival. The small boy arrived to the world with a bluish pale complexion, eyes shut and without a single note to sing as his first aria in his existence. Silence was never such a burden, it was never so frightening and painful to hear before.

\- It didn't cry out. – Christine whispered in shock.

\- No, Christine. – Erik lowered his head mournfully. – It is silent.

They said nothing for some seconds. Erik collapsed down on the side of the bed with the small baby in his hands, still holding it firmly. He felt his legs weren't able to support his weight any longer. He suddenly felt regret about his behavior an hour earlier. How could he accuse his dear sweet Christine of lie? How could he state he did not want another child? How could he yell at Christine…? How could he be such a monster, such a heartless thing? He was acting so selfish. His beloved little wife suffered in front of his eyes and the only thing he was concerned about was that he didn't want a third child in his family. Maybe this is God's way of showing him to be careful what he says and wishes for? He did not want this child, the third one- so he doesn't deserve it, and the small angel went back to God where he belonged to. He could not meet him or get to know the small person. He will never find out his habits, he will never hear his voice. He is his only child without a voice. What is your name, little one? What your name should have been if you learned to sing for your parents? Oh why can't you sing just one note? One single note to sing your swan – song, my dear little son…

\- Erik… he can't be dead… he can't… ! Do something… please… - Christine's soft sobbing made its way to his ears, but he just couldn't look at Christine. He was ashamed to look in the eyes of that angel.

He slowly rocked the small corpse in his hands and his tears were dripping on the baby boy's forehead. There's no need to hurry. It's all the same now, he has time to rock the nameless little thing as much as he wants to. But…

Suddenly he remembered back to a night with his mother. She was sad and depressed, just as always with him, in his early years, and was sobbing some sentences about him, his birth and the whole questionable point of his existence.

" _Why, oh why did I save your miserable life, you… you monster? If I accidentally don't kick you off of the bed, you never cry out…_ "

Yes, he was silent at birth as well and remained that way for minutes. He was just placed at his mother's feet and she kicked him off of the bed in her fright upon seeing his face for the first time. Only then he cried out after coughing for some moments- maybe he will cry as well!

He turned the baby upside down and slapped his back several times, to Christine's horror.

\- Erik! Don't hurt him! Why do you hit a dead baby…? Erik he did not harm anyone… - Christine sobbed and buried her face in her hands not to see what his mad husband is doing. He sure had gone mad, maybe his all life with the tragedies turned him crazy. There is no wonder, to tell the truth. But why does he hit a newborn dead baby…?

But suddenly she heard a noise. A noise that was sweeter than the angels' choir. Sweeter than the sound of any musical instruments or any compositions written by any composer on Earth, dead or alive. At first, it was just some sneezing. Then some coughs and chuckles… then finally a strong cry of a healthy baby. The new family member showed how loud he can cry if he wants to, and his voice filled the whole bedroom. Erik wept along with the child, hugging him close to himself, softly and gently kissing the tiny thing's cheek which started to show some blood coming into it in the end. Christine was laughing and crying audibly at the same time in relief and stress coming on surface.

\- I will never ever hush my child… my children… again. I won't ever say "Don't cry!" to them anymore. Please, my son, my sweet little son… cry! Cry as hard as you can! Look, Papa is crying as well…

Erik washed the baby carefully and bundled him in some soft blankets, and gently placed him in Christine's hands.

\- Here is our third baby, my dear Christine… and I am the happiest of men on Earth. Please forgive me about what I said earlier… I am happy about our baby… I wouldn't give him for anything.

\- I knew you will change your mind once you see him. – Christine smiled. – Do you believe me if I repeat that I did not know he was there?

\- I do now.- Erik nodded. – God makes his miracles and he gifted us with a baby for Christmas.

\- He is our tiny Christmas present.- Christine laughed. – Maybe we should name him… Noel?

\- Noel…? Well, Erik likes that name. It is indeed fitting.

They had the time and opportunity to take a closer look on the boy only then, both calmed and settled down on the bed. Christine was stroking the child's face with her thumb and she looked at Erik.

\- I think he resembles you in a way.

\- Why do you have to hurt that small thing, Christine, he is not even half an hour old.

\- No, I mean it… just look. I think you would look like this if you… if…

\- If I had a normal face. – Erik finished the sentence.

Really, he didn't think before that a baby could truly resemble someone, as he thought all babies had the same features, of course, except Mahtab. But for sure, Noel looked nothing like Flo. He was a healthy boy without any deformity, but without doubt, his face was unique. Not as chubby and round as Florian's, Noel had narrower cheekbones, kind of like him, and his nose was narrower and pointier as well. He had no hair, but his eyes were somewhat greenish blue colored, not like Christine's, or any of the children's. That would be Erik's face if he had the fortune to look like anybody else? Suddenly, he tried to imagine Noel in front of him in different ages, that was something that had never reached his mind with his other children, but he had to smile upon picturing a 20 year old man with a quite handsome face and a moustache, with a violin case and a protractor in his hands. If God gives him health and a clear mind, he will be able to see it maybe. Please, God allow Erik only the fortune and joy in his life that he will be able to see his children grow up!

The bedroom door finally opened, and Papa walked into the nursery with a small thing in his hands. The children stopped their playtime together and rushed to Erik's feet with growing interest.

\- What this, Papa? – Flo climbed up on Mahtab's bed where Erik sat down with the bundle and carefully showed it to the children. Mahtab stood in front of Papa, as she was tall enough already to see what he was holding in his hands standing up.

\- Look, Flo, it's a baby! – She exclaimed happily.

\- Ssssh! Be quiet dear, he is asleep.

\- Why? – Flo asked.

\- You know, my dear, your brother is tired. – Erik smiled. – Entering the world is tiring and painful. – He added absently.

\- Is baby ours? – Mahtab inquired.

\- Of course, dear, he is your brother. My dear children, let me introduce your younger brother here: Noel Olivier.

\- Did God send him? – Mahtab sat up on her bed next to Erik as well.

\- Yes, my dear. He surprised us with Noel. He is our Christmas gift.

\- Did the Angel of Music create him as well?

\- Ummm… kind of. – Erik cleared his throat. Why did the Daroga and Christine had to talk to Mahtab about that stupid tale?

\- Where is Mama? – Flo asked, nervously looking at the door behind him, waiting for Christine to get into the children's room as well.

\- Mama is tired as well, she is sleeping.

\- But she will wake up.

\- Yes, of course, my Flo, she will.

They sat together on the edge of the bed, the two children happily examining the newcomer, who just lay there in the proud and touched father's arms, sometimes yawning, and Erik just kept wondering about the family's coming future. Now with three children what it will be like? Will they grow up to be healthy loving siblings just as they were now? What their talents will be? How will they survive and be happy in this world? What new things and inventions will they see? Will he see them as well with them?

Whatever the future was having stored for them, he wasn't afraid of it. He was sure he will be able to solve any problems and be a loving father to his children, and will stay by Christine's side until death shall them part.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter XXXI.

Doctor Bonsanté was utterly surprised as he heard about Erik's new child when he asked him to examine the baby whether he was born healthy or not, especially due to his worries about the lack of oxygen he had to suffer during his birth. As the doctor approached the youngest family member and lifted him up, he seemed to be all right. After further examining and tests done, the doctor told the anxious parents that Noel was in perfect health and condition. The only thing that bothered Erik was Noel's pale complexion. At first he assumed it was just because he did not get a normal breath for a time, but the paleness did not want to go away. It was not the yellowish pale skin tone Erik had, but rather just regular pale skin of an ill person. Thankfully, the good old friend told Erik that Noel's paleness most likely didn't indicate any illness as he seemed to be healthy. His lungs were functioning normally, he was able to swallow and eat normally, he was the normal size of a newborn both by height and weight, and maybe he just inherited some of Erik's skin tone.

Christine was also in good health after an unexpected childbirth, they were both relieved to hear that the young woman didn't suffer from any complications, and will be able to lead a healthy life just as she did before. As Christine still wanted to prove Erik that she told the truth, she turned to the doctor and asked:

\- Doctor, have you heard of a lady who did not know she was expecting?

\- Yes, I met a similar case. – He nodded. – She did not experience major symptoms, and just assumed some weight gain happened because she was noticeably ate more in those months, but other than that she felt nothing…

\- See, I told you… - Christine pointed at Erik accusingly.

\- … but that baby was dead, Madame Spöke, and it did not move, so that's why he remained unnoticed. – The doctor shook his head sadly. – Madame, I am afraid you weren't totally honest. – He added. – You, if you did not have other symptoms, still should have felt the baby's kicks.

\- I told you. – Erik crossed his arms on his chest. – I told you. – He repeated, sticking his tongue out on Christine. – Erik is not all stupid my dear.

\- I… I admit I felt him moving. – Christine closed her eyes in shame. – At first I really did not know he was there- just about halfway in the pregnancy when he started kicking.

\- It would have been wiser if you tell Erik about it. – The doctor scolded Christine. – A bigger problem could have happened.

\- I know. – Christine was now crying. – I only realized it when Noel did not cry out… I thought I had lost him… Oh Erik… forgive me.

\- And yet you STILL wanted to lie to Erik, eh? – He leaned closer to Christine, looking at her a bit strictly.

\- I thought you will be angry if I tell the truth now. – She admitted.

\- I am only angry if you lie to me. – Erik stated, somewhat calmer. – Now we have another son to be happy for. – He added with a loving tone in his voice and started laughing softly.

If Doctor Bonsanté was surprised of the arrival of Noel - Olivier Spöke, one can easily imagine the Persian's reaction when Erik opened the front door with a big grin on his visit after Christmas, and led him to te drawing room, asking:

\- Guess what happened, Daroga!

\- What? – The Persian sat down next to the fireplace and waited for Erik to sit down in front of him as well.

\- Well, think of the least possible outcome.

\- You gained common sense?

\- I did not say impossible, just not plausible.

\- Ummmm… did you grow a nose?

\- Oh, let me laugh at first…

\- Wait – wait, don't get angry… were you just kind to someone?

\- Oh Daroga, you have such a talent in ruining my mood.

\- I am sorry, just kidding. Please tell me what happened I am not good at guessing games.

\- How could you be? You are a policeman.

\- All right, I got it back, now tell me what happened.

\- I have a son. – Erik stood up proudly.

\- I know, Florian…. Wait…Another one? – He gasped.

\- Yes. – Erik nodded, and walked out of the room, then a few minutes later, arrived back with his newborn baby in his arms. – Here is my youngest, Noel- Olivier. He was born on 25th December.

\- Oh hello there! – The Daroga exclaimed in astonishment. – What a cute little fellow!

\- He was a surprise for Erik. But he swears this is the last child he fathered in his life.

\- I can understand that. – Mohammed grinned. – Well, but then it is you who have to be a bit more careful…

\- Oh, tell me about it… who on Earth would have thought I was such a Don Juan? Other men in my age can't have kids and here I am with three little monsters, descending in height as organ pipes.

\- If you father one more you could fund a house chamber choir.

\- A chamber choir needs 8 people the least, you musically untrained cop. No possible way Erik having three MORE kids.

\- We shall see, you did not even want this one… - The Daroga laughed.

Noel was a small crybaby from the first days of his life. Erik thought he really made a mistake when he asked the boy to cry as hard as he could, after he got so happy about his first cry. He would just start it and would not stop, whatever he did to him. If he was held, he cried, if he was put down, he cried, and nothing helped. Mahtab had a similar period of time as well, but only when her teeth started coming out, and at least she calmed down after a few hours, but Noel was able to cry through a whole night. He was sound asleep during a day but screamed like a banshee at night. He wasn't placed in the children's room because of this nasty habit of his, even though he would have perfectly fit in there, but Erik wished at least the other two children to be let to sleep, so Noel's cradle was put in the corner of the master bedroom. Erik and Christine sat beside the cradle in turns so that both of them had equal time to sleep, and well, Erik could easily sleep in that armchair next to the cradle as well – he wasn't as easily startled up by any noise as he was a few years back with Mahtab – having children makes a person more immune to noise. Otherwise, Noel seemed to be a good and healthy boy and his siblings seemed to love him. Mahtab would pet and baby him the same way as she did Flo, and would hum to him as she hoped this will make Noel stop crying. Sadly, Noel seemed to be immune to music at that age.

March came. March of 1891, beautiful spring weather warmed up the garden and the walls of the house, and the birds were singing just as beautifully as Christine. The young mother, however, was again in a strange mood. She looked like something was bothering her and it all started after an afternoon when she returned from the market as she said. Erik tried to find out what had happened, especially that Christine seemed to be in a very good mood when left, she was even humming something, but she looked a bit of dreamy and distracted when she returned. She wanted to assure her husband about there was nothing wrong, but to be honest, it didn't sound honest.

Some days later, she finally turned to Erik and she bit her lower lip as she was afraid to ask something, but in the end she finally collected her courage to spit it out.

\- Erik, I think I shall visit my father's grave. It has been a long time since I was there.

There was a little bit of silence, one could easily guess Erik was thinking.

\- So you wish to go to Perros. – Erik stated.

\- I do. – Christine nodded.

\- It is fine with me, there is only one problem: who will be here to take care of the children? I could ask the Daroga, of course, but to be honest, he is turning old as well, and I would not want to wear him out by leaving him with three small children, while the youngest one is only three months old. I guess you could wait a few months with this Perros trip until Noel grows a bit older and stronger?

\- Ummm… - She scratched her head the way it looked like she had already came up with a plan to this problem which made Erik a bit cautious. – I don't think we would need a nanny, Erik.

\- So you tell me to leave three children alone for days? Do you want me to kill them for you so they won't cause more trouble? – He placed his hands on his hips. – For Heaven's sake, Christine, even Mahtab is only 5 years old!

\- Who said that? – She cried out in frustration. – You would stay here with them.

\- And then who is going to accompany you to Perros? – Erik's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

\- No one.

\- What kind of an answer is that? – Erik asked with sudden anger. – You are a married woman with 3 kids. You can't pretend you were still a maiden without any responsibilities and disappear for days!

\- I want to visit my father's grave. I have only visited it exactly ten years ago for the last time when…

\- I know when it was. – Erik groaned. – You don't have to remind me. And? Will Papa Daaé come back to haunt us if you wait a few months still, or what is so urgent now?

\- You…! – Christine nearly called Erik a heartless monster, but she had enough strength to swallow it back in the very last seconds. – You _Erik_! – She sighed finally.

\- Erik is sorry about his sarcastic remark. – He knelt down to apologize. – He didn't mean it.

\- It is forgiven. – Christine nodded. – But I want to visit Papa's grave now, Erik. Now and not later. I was waiting enough, I don't want to wait any longer. And I need no male accompaniment. I was alone back then as well, you know it.

\- Yes, _technically_ you were. – Erik argued in a sarcastic tone. – Only that you told your handsome sailor about your little trip so he could follow you if he wanted.

\- And nothing happened. – Christine retorted.

\- How could have when I informed you I was going to accompany you as well?

\- Yes, to act out your mini play with the _Resurrection of Lazarus_ as the " _Angel of Music_ ". And you were the one that accused me of lie when you were the one who was telling lies from the very first moment!

\- Let's not talk about this…

\- Of course, when it comes to your lies it is not all right to talk about them, only about mines!

\- What a nice little couple are we… - Erik frowned, but then burst out in laughter. – We are just made for each other, eh?

\- Oh, Erik… - Christine laughed as well, approaching Erik with open arms. – Come here, you… you…

\- You what, my dear Christine? What was Christine going to address her little husband, eh? – He laughed naughtily.

\- You _fool_! – Christine hugged the man and pressed a kiss on his forehead. – You jealous, touchy fool! I love you my silly Othello.

\- Oh… - Erik smiled with relief. – Christine, Erik is really a fool… Oh Christine… of course you may come and go as you please.

So… Christine achieved what she wanted, finally. The Daroga moved in for the time of Christine's trip, even though Erik did not want to accept his help at first, as he did not really want to use Mohammed, and to be honest, he was a proud and stubborn man, wanting to prove Christine he was totally able to take care of the three children all alone. Mohammed however was worried about his friend's health and sanity- Erik was 59 years old, with a horrid past and many smaller and bigger permanent injuries, resulted in that above mentioned past, which, though he did not complain about them, were really bothering him sometimes, and anyways, he really shouldn't be overstrained like that.

All of the whole concept bothered Erik in the depth of his soul, even if he tried to show and talk otherwise. He did understand Christine's urge of visiting the grave, but he did not understand why it was so urgent suddenly. He was jealous already at the time Christine stated she was going to Perros, but his suspicion only grew when Christine respectfully declined his offer of getting a carriage for her on the morning of the departure.

\- Are you going to Perros- Guirec on foot my love? – He inquired.

\- Of course, not, Erik, but I am a grown up woman and can get a carriage for myself.

\- I only meant to help you. – He shrugged with a bit of resentful tone in his voice. – But if you don't need it, then it's fine with me.

\- Oh, Erik… I am sorry if I hurt you, but it is really not a big deal.

\- Well, all right. – He kissed her cheek and helped her to carry her suitcase out of the gate, but Christine took it out of Erik's hand and carried it alone from that point. He was suspicious again, and though he really wanted to do so, in the end did not start to follow Christine. Mahtab appeared next to his legs, very fast.

\- Papa, I want to say bye-bye to Mama once more…

\- She is gone now. You are late.

\- May I run to the corner of the street to look if she is still there…?

\- All right. – Erik sighed. – But put on the mask. You can never know. – He helped the "mask" on her and gently pushed her back. – Well run. But if you are not here in five minutes I will scold you for that.

Mahtab ran to the corner of the street as fast as she could and she saw a brougham in which her mother was getting in. She cheerfully exclaimed and was running to the coach, but she stopped when she saw the creepy Lobster man with her Mama in the coach. He gestured her angrily to go away, and he seemed to be irritated, so she got scared. The man lifted his hand with the missing fingers which always gave an uncomfortable feeling to Mahtab, so she just turned away and ran back home. It wasn't even the missing fingers, but the look on Raoul's face that scared her – she remembered back about people on that train looked at her the same way as he did now. She did not want anyone to slap her again, so she did not find the need to say goodbye to Mama that much anymore.

Raoul did not really mean to be cruel to that thing. It was just Mahtab annoyed and scared him at the same time. She too much reminded him of a miniature version of that monster man, and he couldn't help but cringe to the mere thought of letting the thing to approach them with her devilish face and way too much knowledge. She might going to end up staying with them for the journey and oh, that was something he did not want at all. He was happy to finally be able to spend some alone time with Christine, without having to be afraid of having either the small monster or any other of her children, or God forbid, Erik around. They did meet from time to time, occasionally, either at the Opera or someplace in Paris, to have a coffee and some talk together, but that happened way too rarely for his taste. Finally, Christine agreed to spend time with only him that even meant leaving her family behind for some time.

Christine was happy to be able to get out of the circle of her home and the Opera, and taking a break from the role of the mother and wife for one or two days. Of course, her father's grave was the most important place for her to visit, and she really should have gone there earlier, and she was happy when Raoul offered her to accompany her there and they could spend time remembering Papa Daaé and their childhood. She loved Erik and her family with all her heart, but she missed Raoul and talking to him was always a pleasure, and being Erik's wife, it has always been a guilty pleasure. She had to steal five or ten minutes to spend with Raoul without her husband's knowledge, and she was always feeling guilty about it, but Erik was so jealous… but she knew this small visit to Perros would be a nice turn. As they rode Raoul's carriage, they got lost in remembering back their childhood time spent together, laughing just as they did before.

Both Erik and the Daroga noticed that Mahtab was bothered by something. At first they just assumed she misses her Mama, but it was strange, as Mahtab always loved Erik noticeably more than she did Christine, and both Erik and Christine explained her that Mama will return in some days, and moreover, she did not seem to be upset about it earlier. She acted like she was scared of something. When her spirits weren't lifted even by her musical train toy that they built with Erik, the father got even more concerned about Mahtab's uneasy feelings, so he lifted up the small girl by her armpits and made her sit on his lap.

\- Now tell Papa, what's wrong, eh?

\- Someone scared me. – She admitted.

\- Who?

\- Monsieur Lobster.

\- Mahtab, I already asked you not to call him that… wait… did you see him?

\- Yes.

\- When? – Erik turned a bit paler as he realized what Mahtab was talking about.

\- This morning.

\- Where? Talk, my girl, should I pull everything out by pliers of your mouth?

\- What happens when you put pliers in my mouth? – She inquired.

\- Nothing, Mahtab, it is just a saying. I asked if you wanted to talk or not. – Erik sighed. – Tell me where you saw that man?

\- In that coach Mama got in as well.

\- They went there together…. – Erik stood up slowly, still holding Mahtab with shaking hands. – They went there together. – He repeated with disbelief. – She lied to me again… she did lie to me again…

He slowly put Mahtab down then stormed out of the room, grabbing his cloak off of the coat hanger and put it on hurriedly, turning half mad with rage.

\- Erik! Where are you going? – The Daroga yelled out of the window as he noticed Erik was running along the garden path, thinking of the worst thing possible.

\- She lied to me again! – Erik screamed back in rage. – I go and catch them then I KILL them! And I kill myself! And the kids! And YOU!

The Daroga helplessly stared at the cradle that contained Noel, and glanced towards the children's room where the other children played… Oh Allah, now what…?


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter XXXII.

The Persian knew that he can't leave the children alone for a long time, but he also knew that he had to prevent a catastrophe to occur as fast as possible. Erik in this state of mind was the cruelest monster ever, and the Daroga could easily imagine he was capable of the most horrible of actions, even murder, most likely murder!. He knew he won't let Erik take the children's lives, as he was going to protect them even if his health will be taken… but at first he has to protect Monsieur Chagny and Christine… But what about the children…? He wanted to ask Mahtab, as she was the oldest in that family to take good care of the smaller family members until he arrives back, he knew it wasn't the best choice, but better than anything else he could have come up with in that desperate moment. There wasn't enough time for him to run home and get Darius here to watch the children, and to tell the truth, the poor servant was terrified of both Erik and the small girl as well. Mahtab was way more mature than her age, and maybe… maybe she will be able to take care of the smaller ones… but no matter where he ran in the house, he could only find the boys. Mahtab was gone as well!

\- Mahtab! Mahtab! Where are you? – He searched her around frantically. – There is no time for hide and seek my dear, please come here! Tonton has something important to tell you!

\- Maatab not here. – Flo shook his head and pointed towards the front door. – She out with Papa.

\- What do you say? – The Persian knelt down to the small boy and with shaking hands he caressed his face. – My boy, did Mahtab follow Papa…?

\- Yes she told me be good and she goes to Papa. Papa sad and she stays with Papa.

Oh, Allah, it was just what was making things even more complicated… why that small thing can't stay on her rear? What a troublesome kid! Just like her stupid father! Not only her face is such a mess as that moron's, but she is such a small troublemaker as well! He is starting to get fed up with this family! Allah, it will be HIM that kills that man in no time…

Praise the Lord he invented steam that powered steam engines that powered trains. Praise the industrial revolution for making the invention of trains possible. Praise the train for being slow and the schedule to be certainly unpredictable. If travelling from Paris to Perros - Guirec took much less time, Erik wouldn't have the time to cool off somewhat on the train, and it would have resulted in a disaster. Especially when he noticed he wasn't alone in the cabin. He was looking out of the window, huffing like a seal after the train departed, causing the window to steam up by his breath. In his mind he was plotting out what he was going to do once he gets that liar woman in his hands and what should happen to the boy, but… but what on Earth should happen to them, anyway? Kill them both? Yes, to be honest, this was the first thing that raced through his mind, killing both of them, and then… but how? He did not like to kill people, of course, he did not like to do so. He always regretted it later, no matter how hard he was trying to deny it even to himself. Memories of his murders haunted him sometimes both in sleep or awake. And killing someone as dear to him as Christine made him feel utterly desperate. He still did not really feel like he was able to do it. He used to be a murder machine back in Persia, but it sure was easier to kill someone he did not know. They told him to kill a "John Doe" and he did so. Easy with a random human, as he did not have to think through what the world will lose with them – and most likely, nothing. Average people were easy to replace as world population grows very fast. But Christine… Christine can't be replaced. She wasn't just a random liar and he loved her so much.., that is exactly why his heart was aching with anger, realizing she lied to him. She said no one would accompany him, and now there she goes with the little soldier and sure had a great time. And if she wanted to do so… what should he do about it? If Christine wanted to be with that boy, maybe that is his fault. He wasn't a loving and good husband to her enough. He should have tried harder. His anger slowly turned into self – loathing and bitterness, and some kind of apathy. And just as any person who feels frustrated and has no clue of what to do or how to solve his problem, he did the one possible reaction in this scenario- he slowly started crying. He did not cry out loud it was just some soft whining sound he made, and as he was occasionally gasping, only that gave away his crying.

Suddenly he felt something brushing his arm and he unintentionally tossed it away from himself, letting out a huge startled gasp. Self – defense was his first reaction, and only then he turned to the left to see what touched him. His eyes opened up in shock as he noticed his small child sitting next to him. Mahtab was examining him with a mixture of worry, pity and cluelessness.

\- Do you not want me to touch you, Papa? – She asked with compassion.

\- How… how in God's name are you in here? – Erik rubbed his eyes to see if he was just hallucinating his daughter's uncovered skull – face next to him on the seat, but no. She was there, in full reality.

\- I followed Papa. – She sat closer.

\- Why?

\- Papa was mad and scared. I can't leave you when you need me. Is Papa still mad?

Now what to say to a five year- old sneaky child who, with her best intentions, followed him on a path that was both dangerous regarding her physical and mental health? She could have been caught and beaten again, without her mask, and he was a terrible father not even noticing the small girl constantly in his heels, as he was too busy plotting his shameful and disgusting revenge on Christine… and what this child could have seen if he didn't manage to calm down enough to finally put away the thought of a double murder? God… just to think of that possibility made his heart skip a beat with fear. Looks like it is his child who helps him regain his last bits of sanity, contrary to she doesn't understand a word about these issues? He reached out for the little deformed creature and sat her on his knees, then absently stroke some locks of blondish brown hair out of the child's forehead. How can such a small thing read in his emotions when a five year old can't really sense these nuances normally? What is so unique about this kid? She really seems to be a tiny adult with a free spirit, but a child's knowledge in some fields.

\- No… Papa is getting better. – He replied some moments later, as he felt his body and soul both getting free of the fury he felt before. He was breathing slower and his heartbeat returned to the normal pace.

\- What are we going to do, Papa? – She inquired.

Now what to answer, again? Should he really tell her about his nasty thoughts about her mother? Not the murder part, of course, but what should he say, why are they on that train, to begin with? Where are they going? Where are their _life_ going? Oh, what was he thinking? Should they get off at the next stop and go home? But… Christine still did lie to him and he wanted to clear things up. He can't and should not act like nothing happened, and wait for his wife to return and continue this mini play she directed. No, he won't kill them, but they should pay for the lies… He wanted to trust Christine, but the fact she was with Raoul, made him jealous and wanted to clear things up. Does Christine love him still? Does she want to go with that man and leave him? Well, it would be the best if he just followed Christine and the boy around without their knowledge to spy on them, to listen what they have to say about this issue. But what about Mahtab? He can't tell her that Christine lied. She will hate her for that and he shouldn't destroy Christine's stateliness in front of the child. Mama should be pure and flawless to her children. Mama is perfect.

\- We are going to visit your Grandfather's grave. – He answered after some pause.

\- What is a grave, Papa? Mama said it too, but I did not dare to ask.

\- It is a hole in the ground, which people dig to put dead people in there. After they fill in the hole and put a stone over it and write the person's name on it who lays there.

\- What is a dead?

\- Dead is someone who dies.

\- What does it mean to die?

\- It is… it means that a person closes their eyes for the last time. They go to sleep and never wake up again.

\- And they don't eat?

\- No.

\- They don't sing and speak?

\- No, they just sleep forever.

\- Why?

\- Because it is how life ends. You wake up when you are born and you go to sleep forever when you die.

\- So Grandpa sleeps as well?

\- Yes, he does now.

\- And why should they be put in the ground? There is dark and cold there, no? Aren't they afraid?

\- No, you can't be afraid when you sleep.

\- But yes, you can. – Mahtab looked at Erik with knowing eyes. – You can hear people shouting you are a monster and it makes you afraid. I know it.

\- Oh… dead people don't dream any more. – He shook his head sadly. He knew Mahtab sometimes still had nightmares about the train incident, but he would have never thought they affected her little soul so much. She seemed to be all right most of the time, and she never worded what she felt before. – Don't be afraid, my child. It gets better with time. – Yes, he lied. It never will. Wounds of the soul stay and haunt forever, but she is too young yet to know this.

\- And why did Grandpa die?

\- I think he had some lung problems. But ask Mama about it, she knows it better than I do.

\- Papa…?

\- Yes?

\- When people die?

\- You can never know. – Erik sighed. – Some people die early and some live long.

\- And do they know when they die?

\- No. No one knows when exactly they leave Earth.

\- Will you die too, Papa? – Her voice gave away much worry.

\- Yes. – Erik nodded. – Eventually everyone does. Papa as well.

\- I don't want you to sleep forever. – Mahtab hugged Erik's chest and grabbed his shirtfront with those tiny skeletal fingers as she was afraid Papa will disappear right now if she doesn't hold him strong.

\- Don't worry, Mahtab, Papa feels all right and he thinks he won't go anytime soon.

Yes, Erik knew well that he was an old man. He was afraid of having to leave his children alone, this thought bothered him sometimes. He was here, at the age of nearly 60, with 3 small children. Will he be able to assist them while growing up? What will happen to them without him…? Oh no… better not to think of anyone's death. To make Mahtab's mind get away from the thought of death, and his own to settle down after these waves of emotions he just had to get through, he asked:

\- Mahtab, did I ever teach you this song? – He started singing Mozart's "Sehnsucht nach dem Frühling" while stroking the child's hair behind her ear.

 _"_ _Komm, lieber Mai, und mache_

 _die Bäume wieder grün,_

 _und lass mir an dem Bache_

 _die kleinen Veilchen blüh'n!_

 _Wie möcht' ich doch so gerne_

 _ein Veilchen wieder seh'n!_

 _Ach, lieber Mai, wie gerne_

 _einmal spazieren geh'n!_

 _Zwar Wintertage haben_

 _wohl auch der Freuden viel;_

 _man kann im Schnee eins traben_

 _und treibt manch' Abendspiel;_

 _baut Häuserchen von Karten,_

 _spielt Blindekuh und Pfand,_

 _auch gibt's wohl Schlittenfahrten_

 _aufs liebe freie Land._

 _Doch wenn die Vögel singen,_

 _und wir dann froh und flink_

 _auf grünem Rasen springen,_

 _das ist ein ander Ding!_

 _Jetzt muss mein Steckenpferdchen_

 _dort in dem Winkel stehen,_

 _denn draußen in dem Gärtchen_

 _kann man vor Kot[Anm. 1] nicht geh'n._

 _Am meisten aber dauert_

 _mich Lottchens Herzeleid._

 _Das arme Mädchen lauert_

 _recht auf die Blumenzeit._

 _Umsonst hol' ich ihr Spielchen_

 _zum Zeitvertreib herbei:_

 _Sie sitzt in ihrem Stühlchen_

 _wie's Hühnchen auf dem Ei._

 _Ach, wenn's doch erst gelinder_

 _und grüner draußen wär'!_

 _Komm, lieber Mai, wir Kinder,_

 _wir bitten gar zu sehr!_

 _O komm und bring' vor allem_

 _uns viele Veilchen mit!_

 _Bring' auch viel Nachtigallen_

 _und schöne Kuckucks mit!"_

\- No, not yet. – She smiled. – Very nice song, Papa!

\- This is one of my favorite songs by Mozart. – He sighed dreamily. – So positive. Do you think, my dear girl, how beautiful spring is? Everything is blooming and birds are singing… you know, animal babies are usually born in springtime. Oh, Mahtab, can you believe that I much preferred winter over spring some years before? Oh, how foolish I was… - He told this mini monologue rather to himself than Mahtab, as the girl didn't know a single word in German yet, neither in any other language.

\- Why, Papa? Winter is very nice. You can build a snowman.

\- True. – He let out a small laugh and patted the child's head.

The Daroga had no more time to lose. He lost enough already, running up and down like a madman to search for Mahtab. She could be in danger, and oh, Allah, what about Erik… where could he be? Well, Darius wasn't too happy when he left Florian and Noel at his apartment with him to take care of them until he returns, but he simply HAD to search for Erik and Mahtab. If Mahtab is missing and Erik finds out he lost her, he will be the very next person to be killed. He already felt those strong bony hands around his throat. How they could grip… one would never surmise such a strength coming from someone as skinny as Erik. He did not even know who to search for at first, but he also knew he had to get to Perros to warn the young Chagny and Christine about Erik's soon arrival and maybe to smack Erik's death head until he realized how idiot he can act. Of course, he missed the last train. How happy he was to that thought… He started asking the staff of the train station whether they had seen Erik getting on a train to Perros. He got a positive answer from one of the conductors, who even added he wasn't alone.

\- A little… boy… was with him as well? – The Daroga asked with hope.

\- Yes, he was around 6-7 years old and had blondish hair, but I have only seen him from behind.

\- Oh… that's good to hear. – The Persian wiped his forehead. At least Erik and Mahtab were together and he was certain Erik won't really hurt his daughter even in his biggest fury. There was a special bond between them and he thought Erik loved Mahtab more than Christine, or if not more, than in another way.

At least he was calmer by this thought… maybe Mahtab will be good enough to calm Erik down?

The young friends spent the day together. They were walking by the sea and talking about their beautiful memories together from their childhood. There was no word about Erik, or any of Christine's current life – Raoul did not want to mention those unpleasant memories and make Christine remember she had the children and the monster waiting at home. He wanted her to forget about them for a while, that is why he wanted to take her there. He wanted to relive the sweet times with the girl he loved the most. He did not mean any harm with it.

He just wanted to forget the years he had been through since 1881. He wasn't the Raoul de Chagny he used to be. Of course, his personality traits still were there, but they were altered by the horrible happenings in the torture chanber, followed by the hint of a happy life with Christine he was longing for, and ruined by that nasty fight they had after he found out Count Philippe was dead… then the expedition and the unbearably cold weather, the shipwreck, the icy waters he fell into… the terrible illness that followed… and then the operation he had to survive to save at least his arm and his life. He will never forget the facial expression of the doctor, who leaned close to him and announced with sympathy: "Monsieur de Chagny, I am sorry but I will have to amputate some of your fingers". That sentence, he recalled, hit him like a thunder and the next thing he could see was his bandaged right hand, the white bandages slightly soaked with his blood at some spots, and he could still smell the horrible hospital – scent with iodone and various other potions.

He did just briefly tell Christine about these happenings earlier, and the girl had enough empathy not to indulge in the subject any more than necessary, so they both had about 10 years in their past that was hidden for those days in Perros. Carpe diem – live for today. This was their motto. Christine was just as beautiful as she used to be – maybe even more beautiful. Her eyes reflected happiness as she looked at him, they were just as clear blue as the sea, and this sea wasn't stormy as he saw the waves in his nightmares. Her laughter was ringing in his ears the same way as he recalled it in those desperate and alone times, which was how he tried to comfort himself back then. It couldn't be noticed that Christine gave birth to 3 children, she was still as fragile little thing as before. Raoul was wondering how her body was capable of handling those pregnancies and childbirths. What a selfish monster of a husband she had! Erik did not respect that tiny body at all. He just couldn't say no to his urges, causing Christine to be pregnant again and again. What a strong and amazing girl Christine is! She wasn't affected by the sick influences of the monster. She didn't turn pale and did not die, having to live with Erik for 10 years. 10 years! Who would think that monster lasts so long? If only he turned up his toes… he still was willing to marry this amazing girl, and correct the mistake he made 10 years back.

\- Raoul, I am thankful for the nice day we spent together. – Christine smiled. – But I believe we should go to the cemetery to visit Papa's grave.

\- I thought we would do it tomorrow. – Raoul looked at her in confusion. – It is already turning dark.

\- I don't mind going there at night. – She shrugged.

\- Maybe this is another bad influence caused by him. – Raoul frowned.

\- Why do you say that? – Christine asked with a sudden change in her tone.

\- Oh… nothing. As you wish, Christine, we should go and pay Papa a visit.

As evening slowly fell on Perros- Guirec, the couple arrived to the cemetery to silently light a candle and mourn their dear Papa Daaé.

\- How much do we need to walk still? Why did you put this thing on my head? – a high – pitched whiny sound came from behind Erik's back, while he was trying to remember where that damned cemetery was. Mahtab tried to remove the black mask off of her head. It was too big for her and it drove her crazy. Yes, it was one of those black silk masks Erik used to wear when he was around Christine under the Opera. He always carried one in his pocket in case something happens to his human mask, so that he will have something to cover himself with. He knew it well that Mahtab's head was too small for it yet, but he did not have anything else with him to cover her face with, so he just put it on her.

\- Mahtab, be quiet. – He sighed, being in not the best mood ever. It was already dark, but suddenly he was distracted not only by Mahtab's chitchat. He heard footsteps getting closer. As he heard it, there were not only two people getting nearer, but a whole crowd.

\- Papa, what's happening?

\- Ssssh! – Erik lifted up the child from the ground and hid in a quiet corner to watch what was coming their way.

Many people appeared on the corner of the street, with a coffin. Oh, just a funeral march… He was so scared for a moment that he will have to protect his daughter from a catastrophe. With a relieved sigh, he hugged Mahtab closer to his chest and whispered in her ear.

\- Be very quiet. This is a crowd of mourners. They go to the cemetery. We follow them so we go there as well.

\- And what is in the box? – She asked with interest.

\- It isn't a box, it is a coffin. I told you they take dead people to the cemetery.

\- There is someone in the box? – She gasped.

\- Yes, the person who died, they are in the coffin.

\- Then why was a box like this under the Opera?

\- Mahtab… shut your tiny face please, you should not talk among mourners. Give respect to the dead.

Erik did not want to answer Mahtab's question about his coffin bed, as he found that very awkward, looking back at it. They followed the crowd slowly, just as they were mourners too, and Erik just hoped Mahtab will finally remain silent. Of course, she had to talk again.

\- Papa, the last two dead people in the group are talking! I saw it.

Erik let out a small irritated sigh, and reached into his pocket to search for some candy for Mahtab to suck on and finally make her quiet for a time. He was ashamed to admit, but he did put a piece of candy in the child's mouth from time to time while they were walking somewhere and he wanted some minutes of silence. Finally he was able to follow the mourners in peace with the girl being occupied by enjoying her sweet treat.

Raoul watched Christine kneeling at Papa Daaé's grave, even though it was a chilly evening in the spring, she did not move for a long time. About halfway of their visit, a group of mourners arrived to the cemetery to bury a dead person, but they were at the other end of the cemetery, so it did not bother them too much. Raoul stood there, behind Christine's back, holding his hat in front of him, silently wondering about how much he loved that dear old man as well. He was the closest person to him who wasn't a family member, and he even had to admit there were parts of his family he did not like and respect as much as he did the good old violinist.

The poor old man… it must hurt to watch his dear daughter from Heavens, suffering so much and marrying, and living with a monster. What he would say if he knew about his grandchild that looks like a small rotten corpse?

\- It is not a nice thing to say. – Christine turned back to Raoul suddenly, with a hurt look on her face. – Especially not at his grave.

\- I am sorry. – He apologized, not realizing he had spoken out his thoughts. – But… really Christine… do you not think sometimes about what he would say about… Erik?

\- Erik…? – a soft whisper seemed to come from near, reminding Raoul of the evening at the rooftop of the Opera.

\- Did you hear that? – He turned to Christine, turning pale.

\- No. I heard nothing, only your mean words about my husband.

\- I did not mean to hurt your feelings, but he… can't be the one poor Papa wanted you to marry!

\- Oh… - another soft whisper…

\- Erik, where are you? – Raoul turned around angrily.

\- Raoul… stop it. – Christine lowered her head as she looked more and more hurt. – Why do you have to mock me? Do I really deserve this?

\- Do I really deserve this…? – The voice repeated, but it wasn't any louder than the wind.

\- He is here Christine! He is here and HE mocks you, not me!

Christine collected her strength, slowly standing up from a kneeling position, dried her eyes red from crying, walked closer to Raoul and looked him in the eye very closely before giving the man an enormous slap in the face.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter XXXIII.

Silence came. Nothing could be heard, only the wind shaking the branches of the trees in the dark cemetery. No one was there any more, only those, the two ex- lovers, so no one could have witnessed this painful happening. The slap echoed in Christine's ear, and Raoul said nothing. He held his hand in front of his mouth and leaned forward for a time. He looked Christine in the eye for a second and as the two pair of clear blue eyes met after that horrible slap, suddenly something flew towards them from the bushes. The direction of the small rock or something that was thrown at them wasn't to be mistaken, but they did not have much time to think before they heard a child's voice exclaiming out loud:

\- Look Papa, what a slap he got!

Thank you, Miss Obvious, no one has seen it other than you, so you absolutely have to point it out with a volume clearly audible by even the dead laying in here. Please say it again, a bit louder…

\- Who's here? – Raoul took a few steps closer to the bushes from where soon emerged a small figure. It was skeletally thin, a boy, around 6- 7 years old… and… oh NO…. the crazy ugly kid! The only difference was that now she was wearing a black mask that was at least three times bigger than her head.

\- Me. – She bowed her covered skull head towards Raoul. – Monsieur, I beg your pardon, but have you seen my candy here somewhere? – She was examining the ground, and soon she picked up the small bit of mushy and now obviously dirty acid drop, and lifting the mask a bit, put it back in her mouth with delight.

\- Mahtab! – Erik climbed out from under a bush, where he was hiding and caught the girl by the shoulders. – I have told you a thousand times already not to put everything in your mouth! That candy is dirty, spit it out!

\- I accidentally lost it. – She explained. – But now either I can't find it. I think it slid down. – She shrugged.

\- Oh, you…

\- Erik… - He lifted his head to Christine's voice who had just regained her voice after a long pause. – How did you get here…?

\- Oh… - Erik straightened up, casually cleaning his jacket and trousers off of dirt, and sent Christine a nervous little glance.

\- Why did you follow me? – She continued, not believing her eyes.

\- I just…

\- You wanted to catch me with Raoul? – She put her hands on her hips and looked at Erik accusingly. – You were able to follow me to catch me in the act of a lie? And were you able to take the child with you? You left the small ones with the Persian? What did you expect…? To find me here with Raoul, doing something we should not be doing? Huh?

\- Christine, I… - He started nervously, but he found out it was a wiser move not to continue. He knew that Christine was a strong and independent woman and she loathed nothing more than being controlled by someone.

\- You don't trust me. – Christine sighed. – You still don't trust me. I can give my soul to you and you still accuse me of lie.

\- You lied to me twice in three months. – Erik finally was able to spit out a full sentence.

\- Because one can't be totally honest with you!

\- Why do you say that?

\- Because if I told you I was pregnant… you wouldn't have wanted that child!

\- Did you want a child from **_him_**? – Raoul pointed at Erik with disbelief.

\- Shut your face. – Erik snapped. – I think it is time for you to leave.

\- You shouldn't have come here in the first place, why won't you leave instead, you….?

\- Me..? Me what? Finish your sentence, Monsieur. – Erik took a step closer, but Raoul jumped a bit backwards. He knew it wasn't a wise thing to get too close to Erik. – Me what?

\- Stop it. – Christine warned. – Stop it Erik, every disaster started in our life this way.

\- Just blame everything on me, as you always do. Me what, Chagny, tell me?

\- Stop it Erik!

\- Why should I stop it when I did not start it? He was the one calling me names even before he knew I was here.

\- He just asked something. – Christine bit her lips, knowing well that Raoul's words weren't too kind regarding Erik.

\- I still think so! – Raoul stated. – I still think Christine's father would hate the thought that you married her!

\- Think what you want, it is not your business. – Erik growled.

\- You are just a…

\- Papa, why do you fight?

\- We don't fight, dear. – Christine answered a bit calmer. – We are just talking. – She sighed.

\- What am I, Chagny, what am I?

\- You monster! – Raoul yelled, from a quite safe distance. – Monster!

Mahtab's eyes got wide open. She hated that word. That was the word those people told her on that train… How can someone say such a word, especially to her beloved Papa! Papa, sweet Papa! He isn't a monster!

\- Take it back! – She ran to Raoul's direction with sudden fury, she had never ever felt such thing before. She had only felt terrified, but not furious up until that point. But at that moment she could not tolerate those words being spoken. She acted out of over helmed emotions, being too much oversensitive about one single word…

Raoul felt a thick head bumping into his stomach, he lost his balance from the sudden push and he fell backwards in a blink of an eye. No one had time to react. He felt a sharp pain on the back of his head, and warm blood trickling down to his neck, and he heard some cries and gasps- then everything went black.

Déja vu.

Erik had already seen the Viscount's body lifelessly laying on the ground in this same spot, after that fool fainted by the sight of his face. This guy really can't fall right. One has to learn to fall the right way not to smash his skull by anything. This time it wasn't him who caused this though. History repeats itself, it seems.

In the inn, when they finally succeeded in laying Raoul on a bed and Erik took care of the wound on the young man's head, they were just waiting for him to open his eyes. They did not talk to each other since it happened. Mahtab was sent to bed in another room and Erik promised to wish her good night as soon as possible. She did not argue with her parents this time and obediently lay on the bed. She couldn't sleep though. Another unfamiliar sensation did not let her close he eyes and fall asleep. She hardly even knew that man, she only saw him a few times, but she always felt that man didn't like her for some reason. She did not hurt him before, but still she could feel the distance between them. She did not know why that was, but calling Papa a monster was enough to make her lose all her consciousness. She was shocked to see the bleeding man lying on the ground after hitting his head to some rock. She was worried about the man, even though he was mean to Papa and distant to her. She did not know what will happen to the man, he seemed to be ill. And it was because of her… Is she really a bad person? A bad boy? A monster?

\- Mahtab turned out like you. – Christine stated suddenly, sending a glance at Erik.

\- Don't dare to accuse the child. – He retorted. – I did it. Hate me if you want to.

\- I don't hate you, but Mahtab started to follow a wrong path, and I shall talk to her about it.

\- I think she already feels bad enough. Don't pester her. She needs your love not your indoctrination.

\- So do you say I don't love her enough?

\- No one said that. – Erik sighed. – I just told you she needed love and support in this situation.

\- Of course, just pat her head for nearly killing someone!

\- It wasn't her intent, and you know it!

\- Still she needs to learn what is good and what is bad or she ends up turning out like…

\- Like me. – Erik finished the sentence softly.

\- In a way. – Christine nodded. – I don't want her to kill anyone.

\- Of course. – Erik growled. – As us, monsters LOVE to kill people. She couldn't wait to turn old enough to finally end someone's life! I can't wait to teach her to use the Punjab lasso!

\- I hope you don't mean it. – Christine looked at Erik with terror.

\- You are my wife for ten years. – Erik stated. – You should be able to tell when I use sarcasm.

\- Almost always. – Christine retorted. – Just as you almost always spy on me and control my life.

\- Says this the woman who publishes her husband's work without his knowing and sends out the application for his retirement without asking him.

\- You can be unbearable sometimes!

\- Well, if you really think so… I don't understand why you are still with Erik.

\- Me neither. – Christine lowered her head, but as soon as these words slipped out of her lips, she already regretted them. – Erik, I did….

She couldn't finish her sentence. Erik put his left hand on his chest, was shaking from head to foot and suddenly turned around and stormed out of the room.

Christine was left alone with an unconscious Raoul and her thoughts. She closed her eyes as it was suddenly too painful to look at that too much perfect face. She had told Erik the wrong things again. She was like Erik in a way- she would often talk before thinking things through. Maybe they weren't that much different? And she did not even stand up to protect Erik against his rival. The man her husband hated the most on this Earth, called him a monster, numerous times, and she asked Erik to stop it… not Raoul… Erik. Only her five year old daughter dared to defend her so much beloved Papa against a hurt. Seems like Mahtab loves Erik more than she does? Looks like she really should be ashamed…? Well, she really lied to him, and it is understandable in a way that he wanted to follow her… Did he do it out of love?

The man's pale head moved to the side on the pillow. He opened his eyes and looked at Christine with a confused expression. He blinked for several times and tried to sit up but felt ill, so he rather stayed in the position he was before. He reached out his hand towards Christine and took her wrist.

\- Christine… - He whispered.

\- Yes. – She swallowed back some tears of relief and regret.

\- Is that you? …. Oh… how happy am I to see you… - He smiled.

\- Me too. –Christine nodded. – Are you feeling better?

\- A little bit. – The young man nodded. – What has happened after… Mah… what is her name…?

\- Mahtab. She pushed you accidentally and you hit your head against a tombstone.

\- It wasn't an accident. Your child attacked me. – He remembered back. – She is already like…

\- I don't tolerate you insulting my family. – Christine pulled her wrist away from Raoul's grip. – If you want to know, my monster husband took care of you. Now and back then as well. And if you don't want Mahtab to get upset, maybe you shall not talk ill of her father in front of her. I know you two don't really like each other. I know Erik used to do horrible things and I don't search excuses for him. It is your right to hate him if you want. But Mahtab adores her father and does not like if someone insults him. And by the way you talked ill about my daughter as well, even though she did not hurt you before. That is why you got the slap. And I don't regret it. I only regret that you fell so unfortunately.

There were some moments of silence before Raoul could talk. He tried to think things through, but he was yet too weak for that.

\- Where is Erik?

\- He ran out of here. We had a fight. I am worried about him, to tell the truth. But I am obliged to stay here and watch you.

The door opened. Christine turned to the direction with so much hope to see Erik back in the room, but the head of the visitor only reached the height of the doorknob.

\- I can't sleep. – She whispered, walking in the room. – How is Monsieur?

\- I am… better. – Raoul answered, suddenly feeling sorry for the penitent little thing.

\- I am glad. – Mahtab wiped her forehead with her sleeve then walked closer to the bed. – I am sorry, Monsieur. I did not mean to hurt your head.

\- Oh… it is I who has to apologize. – Raoul admitted. – I insulted your father. And you. Forgive me.

\- I wasn't mad. Only a little bit. Maybe. – Mahtab put her hand on the man's, and even though the child's hand was just as cold and bony as her father's, Raoul did not pull away from it. He really tried his best to accept the girl. She did not seem to be like her father, at least not too much. She had better manners.

\- Raoul, is it a problem if I leave you two alone for some minutes…? – Christine asked worriedly, looking out of the window.

\- I think we will be fine. – Raoul answered, nodding understandingly. – Do what you need to do. – He added with a faint smile.

It was already dawning when Christine arrived back to the cemetery. She could have sworn she would find Erik there. It was more than fitting for his personality, he did not mind staying in a cemetery at night and dead people's presence did not bother him. She did not even have any other guesses about Erik's whereabouts, it was so logical that she wasn't surprised to notice the tall and bony shadow standing in the corner of the cemetery, exactly at her father's grave. As she walked closer, she saw a candle lightning on the tombstone and Erik just blankly staring at it.

Suddenly, that sweet voice started softly speaking.

\- Monsieur Daaé… I think I have been standing here all night. I have been collecting my thoughts to speak to you for the first time… I am not the person of words, you see… If I had my violin, I would play something for you rather than talking, I know you would understand, as two musicians can easily communicate without words. I heard you were a remarkable violinist. Anyway… I am Erik. I married your daughter after causing her much sufferings, and forcing her into a marriage she did not really like to have. I am honest with you, there is no need to try to euphemize things any more. I even tricked her, you must remember. I played her the _Resurrection of Lazarus_ , making her think it was the Angel who played… I did many things in the past, not even the too distant past that I regret. I know I am too old for Christine, and I am very hideous. Not only my face, but my soul is ugly too. But… despite all my flaws, physically and mentally, I know one thing: I love your daughter more than my own life. We have three children and even though your granddaughter did not turn out the way you would have wanted her to, I love her too with all my heart. I came here tonight to ask for your forgiveness about everything bad I had committed against Christine. Only since I have a daughter of my own, I understand how horribly I had been acting. I am sure I would kill anyone for doing half of the things done to Mahtab that I have done to Christine. Please forgive me, and accept my most humble and heartfelt respect and apology. And please… believe me when I say I love Christine. I am afraid of the future and I don't know what to do now. Please send me a sign. Anything… and please make Christine forgive my sins.

He did not say any more things, but Christine thought this was Erik's most honest confession in his whole life. She knew he meant every word. She dried her eyes as this confession touched her to tears, and slowly stepped behind Erik. She took a deep breath, and she addressed not Erik, but her father.

\- Dearest, beloved Papa! Erik called you Monsieur Daaé, but he doesn't know an important thing, does he? He can call you Papa anytime, as you have accepted him as your son long- long time ago. I know it.

At this point, Erik looked back to meet Christine's clear blue eyes, but those did not reflect any negative feelings any more, only love for him. She patted his shoulder with her small white hand, and he did not interrupt her. He shall let her finish talking to her father.

\- I have come to your grave with Raoul earlier. Yes, you loved Raoul when we were children, and Erik must think that you wanted him as my husband. Oh, how terribly wrong he is! – Christine laughed shortly, then continued. – Yes, we were childhood friends. Yes I loved, and still love him in a way- but you have told me many times I shall marry a man I love and who loves me back – and he just confessed his feelings to you. He loves me. And only this is important for you, Papa, I know it. Yes, Erik is older than me, but I never minded it. And I have already learned to love who he is. Face, body, mind, soul, past, present and future. I love him, and I love all three of our children. And I know you would absolutely adore Mahtab. She is smart, witty, cheerful, talkative, and handy and a loving little girl. You wouldn't care about her looks. You exactly wanted a grandchild like her. Florian, who received your name, shows a great talent in music. You would adore that. And believe me, he did not inherit it from me. Oh, but of course, you know it. You have scolded me many times about not being so good at playing the violin, and… for being lazy in that field. Yes, Erik told me so as well. Both of you are right about that. But Flo is a little miracle. And yet we don't know what comes out of Noel, but I am sure he will show talent in something pretty soon as well- as we are a happy and loving family together. I love Erik with all my heart, including his flaws- and I should have visited your grave with him, not with Raoul.

As she finished her sentence, she kissed Erik's bony cheek and softly whispered.

\- I am sorry, Erik.

\- Me too. – He answered and hugged his wife close to himself.

Now that they confessed their feelings truthfully, both for each other and both for Papa Daaé, they felt an unearthly relief caressing their souls, and they just hugged in front of the grave, looking at the candlelight, even though the sun was slowly rising.


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter XXXIV.

They did not really want to go back to the inn. The soothing presence of each other made them want to stay there forever, or just for a long time. They did not talk. There was no need for words between them at that moment. Christine lay her head on Erik's chest and listened to his heartbeat and she hoped she will hear that sound forever. That tortured and troubled heart of his beats in a calmingly even rhythm, and makes the perfect music. He stroke her chin with his thumb, and they were hugging there for a long time. The small candle slowly melted on the tombstone and finally burned out.

\- Come. – Erik suddenly said. – I think Mahtab is afraid without us.

\- I wish we could stay here for some more time.

\- Me too. But… the Daroga and the kids and… you know. We have to go back home.

\- I do know, but please promise we will come back here one day together. All the family. I miss the old times in my childhood when I spent summers here with Papa.

\- I understand. We shall. Yes, all kids and the dog as well. Next summer… then Noel will be old enough to walk on his own as well, hopefully and… they would be so happy to spend some vacation here.

\- And you too. You will see how refreshing it can be here. When did you spend some time to yourself, Erik dear? You work too much.

\- Not anymore. – He smiled. – Don't worry about me. Well, we could take a walk back to the inn, that will give us some more alone time, if you don't mind it.

\- Of course I would love that. – Christine smiled. – I love spending time with you, my Erik

\- Oh my sweet Christine. – He sighed in delight, when he felt the woman's hand on his back.

They had a nice walk in the foggy and chilly, but still beautiful spring morning, hand in hand. They did not know when was the last time they could walk together just the two of them. Their Sunday walks were shared with the children now, and even though the children's presence was heartwarming, they still appreciated alone time more right at that moment.

When they returned to the room, they were surprised to notice there were 3 people now in there. Raoul de Chagny was laying on the bed, awake and noticeably in better condition, Mahtab, who was helpfully running up and down, bringing Raoul any necessities, she placed a mug of water in his hand when the parents stepped in. And on the small wooden chair next to the bed there sat that great booby, that nosey parker Persian!

\- That's sweet of you, Mahtab dear. – The Daroga praised the small child who helped Raoul drink.

\- Daroga! – Erik gasped, rushing to the bed. – How did you get here…?

\- I wanted to follow you so you won't do anything terrible.

\- Meh. – He shook his head in frustration. – Where are my sons? Did you leave my SONS alone?

\- No. They are with Darius.

\- That fool?

\- He is my servant and he took care of Ardashir as well, many times. He did it great. If my son did not die with him, yours won't either.

\- Did you just remark that he died with me? – Erik retorted angrily.

\- You killed his son? – Raoul gasped.

Silence came. One could have easily heard a fly in that room, not even Mahtab dared to ask any questions, and after a few seconds, Christine found it a better idea to send Mahtab to the other room. She hurried out obediently. After the door closed shut behind her, the Daroga took a few steps closer to Erik, who was trembling with rage.

\- You killed his son and you killed my brother! You kill everyone's relatives! – Raoul continued, seeing Erik's reaction.

\- Monsieur Chagny, please stop. – The Persian warned. – He did not kill my son. He tried to save his life.

\- But he killed Philippe! – Raoul yelled.

\- Erik, are you all right? – Christine inquired with worry as Erik did not seem to be there mentally.

\- He killed Philippe! - Raoul accused again, sobbing into his pillows, reaching out to point at Erik with his remaining fingers.

\- Monsieur Chagny! – Mohammed walked close to the bed and shook Raoul by the shoulder. – Stop it, please.

\- I have the right to know what has happened to him! He killed Philippe and…

\- Silence. Monsieur I will try to talk to him but you need to stop accusing him as it will only cause trouble. Do you promise to stay silent?

\- Yes. – Raoul fell back on his pillows with a deep sigh. – Everything I do for finally knowing the truth.

\- Erik, please let's get this cleared up. – The Persian said softly, slowly approaching Erik again. The ex Phantom of the Opera did not move, only his shaking gave away that he was totally aware of the subject they were talking about.

\- Erik did not mean to kill the Count! – Erik burst out in a sob. – Erik did not… - He fell on his knees with crying hard so hard.

\- Erik, tell me what has happened. Please. – The Daroga leaned closer to the sobbing man, but he was already too deep in his crying fit. He wasn't able to think logically, he was shaking even in the kneeling position, he was sobbing and he couldn't hear anyone. They were trying to call his name several times with no success. Christine lifted her fist in front of her mouth in worry and watched Erik finally hitting the ground with his fists. She wanted to comfort him, but as she wanted to approach her husband the Daroga lifted his hand up cautiously.

\- Stop Christine! He won't recognize you! Don't touch him.

\- He is a mad monster. – Raoul sat up in bed, staring at Erik in horror.

\- Do something, please, he will get a heart attack! – Christine cried out.

Erik really did not look good. Of course, he did not anyway, but his pale-ish yellow skin started turning to a shade of blueish white due to the lack of oxygen. He was too busy sobbing and started gasping for air. The Daroga, with very careful movements, tried to remove Erik's human mask, to at least make it easier for him to breathe, but Erik got aggressive to the attempt of unmasking him, and bit the Daroga's hand as it slowly reached out in front of his face. Oh that wicked man had so sharp teeth…

\- Erik! – Christine screamed.

\- He can't hear you. – Mohammed explained. – I have seen him like this before.

\- And what to do now? He will die!

\- There is only one solution that works. – The Persian walked to the nightstand next to Raoul's bed and picked up the floral patterned ewer that was full of cool water and with one movement, he dumped all of its contents all over the still gasping Erik. As he felt the cool liquid on him, he shuddered and finally with a tiny gasp followed by some coughs, he looked at the Persian with surprise.

\- What are you doing…? You ruined my… favorite suit! – He wheezed.

\- I did not want to give you a slap and make the wall give the other one to you, so the only thing I could do was pour water over you Erik. I am sorry but you turned insane.

\- Erik is… sorry. – He spat out some water and shook himself like a dog does when they fall into water.

\- Erik are you all right? – Christine walked closer, patting Erik's wet coat on his back.

\- Mhm. – He nodded insecurely.

\- Erik… oh Erik don't do this again… you scared me.

\- Erik… can do… nothing about it.

\- Erik, please stay calm. – The Daroga offered his hand to help him up, and then Erik noticed a small but fresh wound on Mohammed's thumb.

\- What has happened to your hand? – He wondered.

\- You just bit him! – Raoul exclaimed.

\- Did I…? I am sorry… - Erik tapped the Daroga's shoulder penitently, then reassured. – I am sorry.

\- Erik calm down, it is all right. – The Persian gently grabbed Erik by the shoulder and started slowly rubbing it to make Erik at least a bit calmer. It seemed to work and finally he was able to guide Erik to a chair and push him down in a sitting position. Christine put a towel on Erik's soaked hair and was rubbing it dry.

\- Laughable. – Raoul moaned. – A grown up man acts like a little snot. Two people are needed to keep him at least somewhat sane. You… thing… you…

\- I can hear you, Chagny. – Erik sighed. – I can hear you. Maybe you think me laughable. Erik thinks so too. I think, with such a life I had it is not a miracle if my nerves are in a bad shape. You are not obliged to accept or understand it, but at least don't make fun of my reactions. You don't know what reason lays behind my illogical actions. Erik hates himself enough, but thank you for helping him with it. Yes… you have the right to know what has happened to your brother. Erik will tell you. He won't lie to you and… and… he swears what you hear is the complete truth. He swears to his children's lives, maybe you accept that?

\- I do. – Raoul nodded, talking a bit of quieter since he got a bit of ashamed about his previous words.

\- All right, but before I start to talk, I have to ask my wife to leave the room. Will you let her leave?

\- Yes. – Raoul nodded.

\- Erik, I would like to stay. – Christine stated. – I want to hear it too.

\- No. – Erik shook his head. – That's not your business. You had and have nothing to do about Philippe de Chagny. Only the young man and the Daroga may stay in the room. Go and watch the child. You know how she can be, I don't want her to be left alone for a long time.

\- Are you sure you want me to go out?

\- I order you to go out, if you stay Erik refuses to say a word about that subject or maybe any other as well.

\- All right. – Christine sighed and walked out of the room to see what Mahtab was up to.

When they could no longer hear her footsteps outside, Erik closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then looked Raoul in the eye and started speaking.

\- I did not mean to kill your brother. I only wanted to talk to him so I called him to meet me at the lake that night.

\- So that's how he knew the way there… - The Persian murmured in front of himself. – I always wondered how he managed to get there without any help.

\- Even Christine told me once that she still wasn't able to go there without your guidance. – Raoul added. – Did you just… tell my brother how to get there…?

\- Yes. – Erik nodded. – I ordered him to be there by 10 o' clock if he had any morals.

\- How did you two meet? – The Daroga asked.

\- I showed up in his box, and just threw my glove in his face. I wanted a duel.

\- What for? – Raoul asked with sudden anger. – It was me you hated, why did you want a duel with Philippe? He had nothing to do with you!

\- He insulted a lady. – Erik lowered his head. – He insulted a lady who was the dearest to me.

\- Insulted….? Christine?

\- Yes.

\- What did he say? – Raoul gasped.

\- He called Christine a… a… he called that angel… _a cheap little thing_ … a girl like **THAT**! – Erik shook even by thinking back at the Count's words.

\- Oh… he murmured it… during Faust. – Raoul nodded. – He did once. Yes.

\- And you, my young friend, just sat there and said **NOTHING**! No one calls Christine Daaé, my sweet modest girl a… a… I wanted Count Philippe to apologize about what he had said about my wife.

\- And did he? – The Daroga asked.

\- We did not get to that far in the conversation. – He sighed brokenly. – I did not… mean to kill him, Chagny. When I showed up, he casually asked me the time. I think his watch stopped or something like that. He told me he was waiting for someone here and he is searching for the O.G. I turned to start to talk… but he just… started questioning me about the mask. Why am I wearing a mask… when I call myself an honest man… I fight for a cheap… woman… covering my face… he told me I must be on wanted posters… he wanted to turn away and run to fetch that idiot Milfroid and… send the whole goddamned police to the lake. He told me he had no idea where you are, and my … whore… just twisted you around her fingers. – Erik slammed his fist against his knee, then continued. – I lost my mind. He ripped off my mask. He screamed. With horror… screams of horror always hurt my ear… I… I… pushed him… a bit too forcefully… he slipped… he fell… he bet his head against a column and fell into the lake… as he was holding me still, I lost my balance and fell with him, that's why I became wet too. I did not play the Siren trick with him, Daroga. I know you think so, but… I did not. I swear… it was an accident. I tried to pull him out… but he was already dead. I could do nothing… just dragged him to the lake side that faced Rue Scribe, and hoped they will find him there… I couldn't help any more.

All three men fell silent for a while, then the Daroga broke the silence.

\- That's what you told me when you came to me after the happenings. You had been honest with me? That really surprises me.

\- Erik… - Raoul called out after they did not get any more words spoken by the Phantom. – That's why you sent Christine out?

\- Mhm. – He nodded. – She would blame herself over it. I know her. There is no need for that, it is… Erik's fault. All his.

\- Erik… - Raoul stood up from the bed and walked a bit closer.

\- What do you want?

\- Thank you for telling me the truth.

\- Do you believe me then? – He lifted his head up in surprise.

\- I do. – He nodded. – You swore to your children's lives and I know you love Mahtab and the boys. You would not want their death.

\- I know Erik for a long time and usually I can tell when he is lying by his metacommunication – now he seemed to be honest. – The Persian nodded. – We believe you Erik.

\- I told the truth. I know I lied to you a lot. But now I told the truth. But please… Chagny… please… don't tell it to Christine… ever.

\- I won't. – Raoul nodded. – Erik… It… still hurts me that my brother died… but… you did not kill him… I mean not by intent. And… it… does put things in another scenario. Up until your confession I thought you just forced Christine into this marriage without loving her truly… - He took a short pause but continued. – But I just realized you really love Christine.

\- I do. – Erik stated simply.

\- Erik… I think we will never be best friends… and I will need time to forgive you the night at the Torture Chamber and… Philippe… and…

\- And I will need time to forgive you shooting me, calling me names, and… ehh… nothing… what did you want to say?

\- I just wanted to offer peace pact. I won't call you by any harmful names anymore and won't hurt you any physical way either. Just I ask you one thing: let me see Christine from time to time without you getting jealous over the fact we meet.

\- It is a hard thing you ask, Chagny, I mean Erik not being jealous about you seeing his wife but we shall try. – He stood up and bowed his head towards his arch enemy. – Erik promises he won't harm you either by any means.

\- May I shake your hand…? Sorry, I can do it by only left hand, but… I hope it counts. – Raoul reached out.

\- Sure. – Erik hesitantly placed his large cold bony hand in Raoul's, and squeezed it firmly.

\- Please call me Raoul. – The boy offered. – And… thank you for… taking care of my wound.

\- You are welcome, Raoul. – Erik nodded gracefully. – Well, if you permit me now, I would like to leave the room and check on my family. You two may do whatever you want to. Raoul, I advise you to see a doctor with your head soon. Daroga… see you later. We are going back to Paris and collect my sons from you.

\- I accompany you home. – The Daroga patted Raoul's shoulder, said a quick good bye and followed Erik quickly. – I have nothing else to do here since you did not murder anyone this time.

\- All right, you may come. Erik shrugged. – At least you babysit Mahtab so she won't cling to my neck all the time on the train.

\- Erik…?

\- Yes?

\- I am proud of you.

\- What the Hell are you proud of?

\- You told the truth and you seem to be able to handle your emotions better. The Erik I knew ten years ago would just have murdered everyone without a second thought.

\- Let me clear this up: You are proud of Erik for acting somewhat normally?

\- That's an achievement of him. – The Daroga patted Erik's shoulder as they walked outside to meet Christine and Mahtab who were walking on fresh air.

Erik was thinking about he might have really changed to the better. He did not know he was capable of something like that. Maybe he isn't such a monster anymore? Maybe he can be somewhat lovable? What has happened that even the boy doesn't want to hate him from now on?


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter XXXV.

After those honest confessions between the married couple and the truth told about Count Philippe's death, Erik seemed to get mood swings. Summer came, and he got in some kind of depression sometimes. There were days he was as gentle as a lamb, and Christine could love on him all she wanted, but some days he was quite grumpy about everything and wanted to spend time mostly alone. Christine knew that Erik sometimes was tortured by memories of his past, and she had to acknowledge that it was sadly part of Erik's personality for the rest of his life. He had been through too much things and those impacts on his life had affected his mood. Christine knew that Erik needed to be left alone those days, and he would slowly get through it by himself and will get back to his usual old fashioned gentleman role within time. She still wanted to assure him about her support for him, though, and told him she was there if he needed to tell her something. He said nothing for some weeks, but finally he admitted what bothered him.

\- My head hurts. – Erik sighed tiredly one day after trying to compose his music for hours.

\- You poor little thing. – Christine kissed his forehead. – Does this make you feel better?

\- Not really. – Erik replied in a bad mood.

\- Oh… do you get these headaches often? – She inquired with worry. She had just realized Erik wasn't complaining only for the sake of a kiss.

\- Yes. – He nodded.

\- How often?

\- Almost every day.

\- When? I mean in which time of the day?

\- I don't know… usually maybe in the evening.

\- Do you think you might be ill?

\- I have no other symptoms, that's the strange thing. Only headaches.

\- Is it severe pain?

\- Not too much, but it is enough to bug me and bother me up until I go to sleep. There are days when I can hardly fall asleep because of them, but I always get all better in the morning. I don't know what this is.

\- How long has it been bothering you?

\- A few months. But if I think more about it, there were times in my life earlier when I had similar problems, but it got cleared up by itself. I hope it will now as well.

\- I think you should visit the doctor about this, Erik. Pain never means anything good. Especially not in your head.

\- I am old, Christine, that is all. – Erik waved his hand dismissingly. – The doctor will say so as well.

\- I would be calmer if I heard it from the doctor himself. – Christine put her hand on Erik's forehead, but it was cold.

\- If it really calms you, Erik shall obey, my dear. – He leaned back in his chair, allowing his wife to softly massage his forehead. He closed his eyes and he had to admit it really helped.

Not only the pain itself was bothering Erik, but also the fact he did not know what might cause it. He did not like to go to the doctors, and having those check – ups, Bonsanté examining all over him, making him feel still somewhat uncomfortable about showing himself, but it wasn't the worst part of his fears. He did not want to visit the doctor as that man might find out he had a serious problem and will tell him that he eventually dies. What if he can't help his illness and will just inform him about having only some months left? He did not want to face that possibility and in no way he did want to know how much time was still stored for him.

Maybe he just has to accept his fate in silence and wait for the worst to happen. He just wanted to wait for the longest time possible with passing away, as he wanted to educate and love his children the most he knew.

Mahtab was nearly 6 years old by the time she was able to finally tie her shoes all alone. It took her two years to learn it properly, and it was a hard match. She was surprised when Erik just refused to help her with it suddenly in a September day, when they wanted to go to the park with the whole family to take a walk. Erik knelt down willingly to tie it for her before, but that day he just shook his head and moaned:

\- Mahtab you are big enough, I showed you how to do it numerous times, tie them for yourself!

\- But I can't…

\- You have to learn it. – He closed his eyes, and turned away from her to assist Flo with his jacket.

\- You help Flo as well! – Mahtab pointed out.

\- He is younger, he needs more help. You should be able to take care of yourself. Mahtab… I am telling this for your own good. Papa can't always just pop out of nowhere and help you.

It took an hour for Mahtab to finally put on bot of her shoes. It cost her some tears of frustration while she was trying to remember the method, and many miserable attempts while Papa was just standing next to her and did nothing to help her. He did not bend a finger. When Christine wanted to help her out, he did not allow her. Mahtab finally was done with the process, her skull face was soaked in tears, and she was sweating.

\- I know it was hard. – Erik knelt down to caress that face and kiss her to feel better. – But now you know how to do it. You will shred countless tears for every skill you learn, my child. It may be music, or anything else. You have to suffer for learning it.

She won't have an easy life with this face, and she has to get used to people not wanting to help her at all. He was babying her too much, and it won't do her any good after he leaves Earth. She has to learn to live without him. He was spoiling Mahtab due to the fact that he really knew how hard it was to live on his own as a child, and he did not want his daughter to face the same fate as he did. But upon realizing he maybe had less time left than he thought, he had to think of the future- a future without him.

By the beginning of July, finally Mahtab was able to get dressed normally. She could tie her shoes and cravat and button her jacket and trousers up without any help. In this field, Flo seemed to be much more talented than her – he could button his clothes up all the way by his third Birthday, while it took Mahtab 3 more years to master it. But it wasn't the only thing he could do better.

The 13th August was Erik and Christine's wedding anniversary. And moreover, it was the 10th wedding anniversary they spent together, now with 3 children. Christine and Erik both were so excited about it, and Mahtab felt as well that something very important was going to happen. Her parents were married for 10 years! She thought she had to give something special to them as a gift as well, as she knew Papa and Mama were both giving a gift for each other, and she wanted to give them a gift because she loved them very much. She already knew what it was- music! She was going to write them a musical piece.

She sat on the piano bench with great excitement. She gave out some excited little gasps and clapped her hands, then put her fingers on the keyboard. She felt so much an adult. Both Mama and Papa loved music so much, and so did she. Flo was walking around the room behind her and looked at his sister in awe. He always loved if she was practicing. Mahtab hit the first few accords of the song she was composing. For some minutes, everything was going right, Mahtab was playing and Flo was listening to it in delight, but suddenly Mahtab used a false and dissonant inharmonic accord in the piece which made Florian complain:

\- Not good, Mahtab!

\- But yes it is!

\- No, not good! You don't do it right.

\- I do! I know how to write music! I am older than you I know better!

\- Nooo! – Flo walked closer to the piano and hit the accord that sounded right for his ears. – This. Use this. And the melody is simple.

\- My melody is good enough! – Mahtab said angrily.

\- Mine is better. – Flo climbed up on the bench next to Mahtab and with his tiny baby fingers he tried to play the melody that was in his mind. Sadly his fingers weren't long and his small hand wasn't wide enough to reach out so far, and he couldn't even pick a quint. Mahtab got fed up with Florian's miserable attempts of playing and wanted him to get off of the bench, but Flo refused to leave. Mahtab tried to push and later kick him off, and that finally resulted in Flo arriving to the floor with his palms and knees. He burst out in a painful sob that was soon followed by Erik's concerned cry of displeasure:

\- What's going on up there?

He arrived to the music room to the sight of Flo kneeling on the floor, crying, while Mahtab was angrily trying to concentrate on her masterpiece in progress.

\- Did you hurt your little brother? – Erik leaned closer to face Mahtab with his hands on his hips.

\- No, he is just fussing. – Mahtab shrugged.

\- Why won't you comfort him?

\- Cause I am at work.

\- Shame on you.- Erik scolded her, then knelt down to see what bothered his older son. – There there, now what is that, my little dear, eh?

\- I can't reach…! – He sniffed as Erik hugged him close and patted his back to make him feel better.

\- Can't reach what, Flo? – Erik asked.

\- Keys. Mahtab can. I can't.

\- Oh, you mean you can't reach accords? – Erik smiled knowingly and sat down to the sofa with the small boy on his lap.

\- Mhm. – He sniffed.

\- Don't worry my dear, your hands are just too small for the piano yet. – Erik explained. – When you grow a bit older, you will be able to play.

\- How much older? – He asked eagerly.

\- One year. – Erik patted his shoulder. – Next summer you will be able to start, and you will be awesome, I know it. But… it doesn't mean you have to be without music until that. – He stood up, placing Flo down on the floor, then he handed him the small violin that was used by Mahtab for practicing. – Here, my boy, you are big enough for this.

\- That's MY violin! – Mahtab stopped playing and turned around angrily on the piano bench. – Don't give him MY violin!

\- Mahtab, this is a violin for both of you. I can't see why Flo can't play it if he wants to.

\- No! That is my violin, and this is MY piano!

\- That's why you pushed him away?

\- I am working! And this is MY piano.

\- Well, Mahtab how about that being my piano in the first place, hm?

\- No, it is mine.

\- Papa had it way before your birth, Mahtab. He just lets you play it. But if you are so jealous, I might think things through. – He said. – You come down from the bench right now.

\- Why? – Mahtab asked with sudden frustration. – I have to finish working!

\- Mahtab, do as I say. You don't deserve playing any more for today, get off and go to your room.

Mahtab jumped off of the piano bench and walked closer to Flo, pointed at him and angrily moaned:

\- You ruined my work, I hate you!

Erik gasped in shock as Mahtab stormed out of the room. She had never said such a thing to her brother before, she only showed love and affection to him, and babied him as she saw it from him and Christine. Flo did not seem to care much about Mahtab's angry remark, as he was too busy looking at the newly received violin. Erik found it a better idea to talk to his daughter face to face about this, before it reached a deeper and more serious conflict between the two siblings, and infects a friendship that was forming between them. Jealousy is like a cavity in one of your teeth. If you don't get it fixed, soon it will attack the teeth nearby, and slowly poisons your life, causing pain in every possible way. He stroke Florian's dark brown curls, and stood up to go to the children's room.

He found Mahtab curled up in the locomotive bed, turned to the wall and silently crying. He gently placed his hand on her shoulder and soothingly rubbed her back until the small girl turned around to face him.

\- Well, now, my girl, what was that? – His voice was sad, and he looked at Mahtab questioningly.

\- He ruined everything. – Mahtab frowned.

\- Why do you say that? You love your brother, don't you?

\- I do but now I did not need him there and he just keeps climbing up and bother me.

\- He just wants to play music, dear, just as you.

\- He can't. I started it. He wants to imitate me and he does it better already. I hate it he does. You will love him more if he can do music better.

\- Mahtab. – Erik sighed, than pulled the girl close to himself. – I will never love you any less whatever you can or can't do. I love all three of my children regardless of their talents. Flo might turn out a better musician, but he maybe won't be able to fix things and build structures as well as my clever little Mahtab.

\- So… does it mean I am good?

\- You are the best girl on the world. And what was that thing you wanted to work on, hm?

\- A surprise… - Mahtab whispered. – But I can't tell you.

\- You can! – Erik smiled. – Why can't you?

\- Because it is a surprise for your Anniversary.

\- Oh what a cute thought. – Erik smiled. – You wanted to write a song, hm?

\- Yes, but Flo said it was bad.

\- It isn't I am sure… it just maybe needs some more working. What if we make a surprise for Mama?

\- So you are allowed to know about it?

\- Yes. – Erik nodded. – It will be our little secret. Yours, mine and also Flo's.

\- Flo writes it too?

\- Yes, a piece can be written by more people, sweetie. It is fun. And you know what else fun is?

\- What?

\- Playing music together! If Flo plays the violin and you play the piano it will sound awesome!

\- That must be great! – Mahtab jumped up on her bed.

\- Well, if you promise you won't be jealous and won't hurt Flo either physically or emotionally, we go back to the music room and write that song together. It will be beautiful, you both learn to play your parts and we will surprise Mama with it! Do you promise?

\- I do! – She nodded in agreement.

\- Well, then come my dear, we don't have much time and shall hurry if we want it to be done by less than a month.

Peace was made between the two children when Mahtab arrived back in the music room, she apologized and Flo just hugged her tight as nothing happened before. Practicing was way easier with Papa. He kept everything in hand. He listened to the children's musical ideas and in the end they created a beautiful composition used by both Mahtab and Flo's music involved. Erik wrote down the parts for both of the children and started teaching Flo to read sheet music and play the correct notes needed for the song on the violin. Mahtab played the piano part, and the harmony between the children was perfect, both in music and their souls. Mahtab understood that they can share their music and they together make beautiful songs, and Papa always helps if they are stuck somewhere.

Christine remembered back to the wall decoration of Erik's room in the hose by the lake. She found that rather disturbing at the first sight, the black walls with the painted white notes. Dies Irae. She knew that Erik loved sheet music as aesthetics. He wanted to decorate his study with some of his favorite classical pieces written on the wallpaper, but at the time he built the house, he wasn't able to find a single colored wallpaper, so he just used that striped one he was able to get that met his taste. He sometimes remarked he did not really like the solution, but it was the only thing he could do. Christine had a sudden idea about what to give to Erik and how to make his study a bit more comfortable for him.

She searched all over Erik's drawers in the study, as she knew Erik puts everything he ever writes there. She knew he won't be too fond of the thought of her looking through his sheet music, but she hoped this time it won't cause him too much pain, as she only wanted to make him happy. She had a similar plan years ago, but it was dismissed when she sent out the retirement application, she completely forgot about why she stepped in Erik's study at all. She was looking for the piece he wrote at Mahtab's birth, and the Wedding Mass. Erik's favorite part was "Kyrie" of his own wedding mass he wrote for their wedding, she caught him sometimes hum it to himself or whistle it. Even Florian could whistle part of it by that time. It popped up in Erik1s mind very often, which meant he found it important and loved it dearly. Finally she found the things she wanted to find, they were painstakingly packed away in a leather folder. She recognized even the folder. It was the one Erik lost in the church on Christmas night, 1880, and she found it with that beautiful Christmas Mass. Oh where that Christmas Mass might be? What a coincidence it was that she woke him up in the church where he had fallen asleep on Midnight Mass… that was their first meeting as a human to human, technically, but she did not yet know who he was. Oh Erik, dear Erik…

Wait a little.

They did not even have a normal wedding. Both of them were feeling uncomfortable that day, too much awkward than being able to enjoy the day. They have to fix this. She already dismissed her original plan and collected the wedding Mass up that was never yet played in church… and went to take care of the situation.

Practicing with the children required a lot of reading and writing sheet music. Erik's headaches returned. To be clear, they did not even fully disappear, only lessened in some days, but they were constantly around. No matter how he tried to ignore them, they were staying. Christine disappeared for hours in the afternoons which was actually nice, as he had time to practice with the children without being heard. Yet he wasn't in a good mood mostly by the time Christine finally guided herself back home.

\- Erik, oh Erik… - She seemed to be so cheerful as she ran into the drawing room after he finally was able to sit down in the evening. He finished bathing and putting the children to bed, and he was just happy to rest his feet against Shadow's back and remain seated. In older times he would stand up to greet Christine home, but now he felt utterly worn out, and did not have much urge to stand up.

\- Yes? – He turned his head backwards to see his wife, who rushed next to him.

\- Oh, you don't know what an awesome afternoon I had… - She smiled and sat down in front of Erik.

\- I'm glad. – He stated simply.

\- What's wrong? – Christine asked with concern as she saw her husband rubbing his forehead.

\- Nothing. I am happy you had fun.

\- Something bothers you. – Christine continued. – I know it.

\- I admit I would be happier if you helped me with the children. – He admitted shortly. – You don't even have any role at the Opera right now, it is understandable if you work, but now it isn't the case. I thought you will help me put 3 children in bed as you did before.

\- Oh… you are right. I just had fun and time just flew on me.

\- What will happen to you all if I…?

\- If you? – Christine asked worriedly.

\- Oh… nothing. – He sighed. – Never mind.

\- Erik, what is wrong? Tell me. You act strange in these past months, especially in the evening.

\- I get tired by the evening. I am old. How many times I have to tell you I am old and can't take life as easily anymore? I am not in my twenties like you! I wish I was.

\- Your head still hurts, right? – Christine knelt down so she was able to make eye contact.

\- Yes… I mean no… I mean…

\- Yes. – Christine nodded. – Don't try to lie to me. Erik we visit the doctor tomorrow and ask him about your headaches.

\- We? – Erik asked back.

\- Yes, I accompany you there. I told you many times already to visit him, right.

\- Right. – Erik sighed.

\- And did you?

\- No.

\- Why not? – She stroke Erik's face. – What's wrong?

\- I don't want to know if I am dying. – he admitted, much to his surprise.

\- Oh Erik…

\- I am an old man. Could be it is something serious. It is better if I don't know.

\- Erik that's nonsense. If it is something serious, I am still sure they can help you with it. Would you rather die than try to get it cured? Erik, we need you. We will help you with everything. We love you.

Erik did not want to argue any more after he heard the magical words from those beautiful lips. He finally agreed to go to Doctor Bonsanté's office and get himself checked.

It was the fifth of August. On that beautiful morning Erik would have rather went out on a regular walk than visiting the doctors, but he promised to Christine he was going to see him. He rather declined Christine's offer for accompanying him, and asked her to take care of the children and wait for his return.

Christine tried not to show her worry to the children as she was playing with them in their room. They spent a nice day together, but Christine was more and more concerned about Erik's lateness. It was already in the afternoon, and Erik did not yet show up. Was it really something serious…? Was he taken to the hospital…? God… She kept checking the garden yard in every two minutes by the corner of her eye to see if Erik was entering the garden gate or not.

Finally she could see his thin form appearing in the garden, but he was moving in a strange way. He was staggering like he was drunk. Did they tell him a bad news and he drank something in his fright and self – pity? Or was he drugged by the doctor? She heard of some medicines that affect someone's mind like they were drunk… God, did Bonsanté really discharge him this way?

\- God damn it, I can't see a thing. – He murmured in front of himself as he finally stepped inside.

\- Erik, you are home! – Christine ran to greet him, but Mahtab was faster, and she could hear her exclamation.

\- Look, Mama, Papa has new glasses! Wow! They look great I want a pair of them like yours!

\- Slower, Mahtab, there are two of you… or well, I can see two of you at the moment.

\- Glasses? – Christine tilted her head while finally arriving out in the Hall.

Erik did wear a pair of pince-nez with his human face mask, with blue tinted fake lenses to make his eyes look green other than yellow by an optical illusion, and to cover the lifelessness of the rubber mask at the eyes, but this time Erik wore other glasses with noticeably real glass lenses.

\- Yes, I received spectacles. – Erik replied. – My headaches, as we found out, were caused by eye overstrain. Now I have to wear these all the time. I can't say I am too happy, but at least there aren't any serious illnesses diagnosed.

\- Oh I am glad to hear that. – Christine sighed in relief. But then what took you so long to come back home?

\- Oh… I am sorry I was late. – He sighed. – But please my dear, try to wear a pair of annoying things on your face which cause you to see two of everything suddenly. I bet you will like it.

\- Isn't it better than it was? – Christine wondered.

\- Not now. I see worse than before, but the doctor said it is normal. My eyes have to get used to them, and in one or two days it will get better.

\- I have to admit they look great on you.

\- Perhaps you also need them if you say such things, my sweet Christine. – Erik remarked in a jokingly sarcastic way, just as his usual tone.

The next few days were a bit of hard to handle with a grumpy ex- Opera ghost and his new glasses and his constant complaining about them. He never wore real glasses before, and they bugged him to no end. They had to be cleaned several times a day, they felt heavy on his nasal bone, they touched his face if he wore them on his bare skin, they pushed the back of his ears, he told he could see better without them… he would always moan about something involved his glasses. Mahtab was fascinated by them though, and asked Erik to lend them to her numerous times a day which fact also bothered Erik.

\- No, you will break them. – Erik explained. – They are too large for your head.

\- I want to have my own then. – She replied.

\- Why?

\- Because I want to look like you!

\- You already do, isn't it enough? – Erik asked bitterly.

\- But now you have glasses and I don't.

\- That's the better like this, believe me. Having to wear glasses isn't fun, it means your eyes are not perfect any more. You are a child with a great eyesight, be thankful for it.

After the first three days, Erik was finally able to see the advantages of his glasses. He could see things clearer and more sharply than before. He did not even realize his eyesight wasn't as perfect any more as in his youth, and he wouldn't think he needed glasses. His headaches disappeared as well, as they weren't ever there before. He was able to read for a long time without the usual tiredness felt in his eyes and he did not have to rub them to see the letters clearly again. He must have laughed at himself, thinking back how much he feared of this doctor's visit. He imagined and feared a deadly illness for months- and all he needed was a pair of pince-nez! What a banal cause for headaches…

Christine was happy to see Erik turning back to normal and his bad mood disappearing as he realized how his glasses actually did help him. He did not even want to remove them all the time any more. And she was waiting for the big day to finally arrive as she was sure Erik will be even happier after their 10th Wedding Anniversary- it will be a day they shall never forget!


	36. Chapter 36

The 13th August found Erik in an unexpected silence. It was broad daylight as he woke up, and everything was silent. Too silent. When he opened his eyes, he couldn't hear any noise which was totally unbelievable. It did not happen for years that he woke up to complete silence in the house. With 3 children, it was a miracle to have a moment of silence in his home.

At least Noel should have already protested for his breakfast being late. But no whining, no crying, not any sound. Mahtab and Flo weren't running around in the hallway either, still in sleepwear, playing out an entire act of some silly little opera they made up together which was always about murdering one of them. Usually this was that woke him up in the morning.

\- Christine… what's the time? – He asked, still a bit of sleepily, but he did not get an answer, so he put on his glasses and looked at his pocket watch. It was half past eight. He did not remember sleeping so much in the last year or so. Noel always woke him up early. He felt that it was a huge mistake to sleep so much.

He got up from bed, hurriedly putting on his bathrobe to look around the house to find out where on Earth everyone else went.

\- Christine! – He tucked his head in the kitchen as he assumed she and the children were already having breakfast, but he couldn't find anything but some leftover coffee in there. Worrying, he turned around and hurried to the children's room to check on the two older ones. Neither Mahtab, nor Florian were there. He got scared.

He ran through the whole house, up and downstairs, but not a soul other than him was left there. Just when he was about to get a heart attack and collapse onto his chair in the drawing room, he noticed a paper put on th small table in front of him. He picked it up curiously and sighed in relief upon noticing Christine's beautifully detailed cursive.

 _My dearest husband, Erik,_

 _Please do not resent us because we have left before you have woken up. We have much work to do. I took all of the children with me. Please don't worry about them, they are fine and have much fun. I ask you to dress in the wedding suit you wore ten years ago, on the happiest day of my life, and meet us in front of the church Madeleine at half past one. Don't be late please, it is very important that you show up in time. I will explain everything there. Oh, and please wear your old mask, the black one._

 _Love with all my heart,_

 _Christine_

Erik did not understand the whole thing. They were supposed to stay home that day together, the whole family, just quietly celebrating their wedding anniversary, and the children were supposed to play the song they were working on for the past few weeks. And why to wear his old mask, when he has his human mask, and people don't even turn and give him a second look that way? What is this, again? Christine sure made another surprise.

Well, if that is the case, he should really start to prepare for that surprise and arrive in time.

With some uncomfortable feelings in his mind, he arrived in front of the Madeleine in his finest clothes and his old mask he loathed so much. He did not like surprises. He never knew what will happen in the next moment, unpredictable scenarios filled his heart with paralyzing panic he tried not to show. Only the trembling of his gloved hands gave away his worry. And the worst thing was he somehow lost his wedding ring. Damn it! He did not even know how he could lose it. He remembered it was on his finger the last night, but he noticed it was missing when he took a bath. He did not have time to search for it, as he would have been late, but the thought it was missing was bothering him to no end. What a jealousy fit he had when Christine lost hers… It could happen anytime as he lost his as well and he can't even remember how. With a deep sigh he looked around to see if Christine and the children will suddenly show up or not, but all he could see was another masked man standing not far from him.

What the Devil?

Another masked man? Why? The man wore an evening suit as well with gloves, and he wore a full face mask as well, so he could see nothing of his face. He was eyeing him suspiciously for a time, but then he caught his eyes. Those jade green eyes couldn't have been mistaken. Erik walked closer and poked his shoulder then leaned close and asked.

\- What has gotten into you, Daroga? What an immature joke this may be? Should Erik take it as an insult? – He hissed.

\- No. – He said simply. – I was asked to wear a mask and meet you here.

\- Where is Christine? I was invited here by a letter of hers.

\- She is here as well.

\- And the kids?

\- So they are. We should get in shortly.

\- In? – Erik repeated questioningly. – Are we entering the church?

\- Yes we are.

\- What is going on?

Without an answer, the Daroga took Erik by the arm and gently pulled him inside. Erik wasn't able to move from being too much surprised.

In there he was surprised even more when noticing wedding decoration. The church looked like on the day of their wedding ten years before, but there was a huge difference. The few people sitting around in the benches were ALL wearing masks. There were some domino masks that allowed him to see the wearer's mouth, and there were some full face masks, like his. As he looked at the people, he recognized them though, even with mask on. In the first line, there sat his two children, Mahtab and Flo. They were dressed in the most elegant tailcoats, he did not even remember they actually HAD these clothes. Behind the children, there sat de Chagny, wearing a white domino mask. Erik could have sworn it was the same mask he wore at the Masked Ball back at the Opera. He held Noel in his arms, the baby carefully was seated on his lap, and even on that poor thing's face, was a mask, forced on him. There was also Madame Giry, with a black mask matching her black outfit, and Darius with a disgustingly decorated golden colored mask on him. Everyone is crazy here? What has happened?

But then he forgot every problem of his and every unpleasant feeling as he suddenly noticed the most beautiful woman in the world, standing next to him. She was dressed in a wedding gown that was way more beautiful than her dress she wore ten years ago. It suited her so well and showed how enchantingly perfect body she still had, even after 3 childbirths. She wore a white lace mask under her veil, it wasn't covering too much, thankfully, as he was able to see her lips as she was smiling at him, but it was enough not to make her an outsider from the masked crowd.

Yes. They had another wedding to confirm their love for each other after ten years and 3 children. A perfect wedding it was this time. They did not have any unpleasant feelings or worry in their hearts any more, and were able to enjoy the best day of their lives. Even more touching was the Wedding Mass. The choir of the Opera House performed Erik's wedding mass in the Madeleine, and each choir member wore a black domino mask. Erik couldn't see from his tears during the music lasted and he was next to his dear Christine, and he was finally able to feel her unconditional love for him. Christine heard this work of art a lot on the rehearsals in those afternoons when she left for late, but it never was so beautifully sounding before. Erik's music was powerful and charming at the same time, and it did show both happiness and some painfully bittersweet melodies that her eyes did not remain dry either.

Erik was relieved to find out that his wedding ring wasn't lost either, it was just removed from his finger while he slept, but he got it back from Mahtab during the ceremony. She carried the rings there for the couple, walking gracefully, just as a miniature adult, and she was so adorable in her tailcoat, she looked like a small prince.

Oh the kiss… the kiss was real this time. Erik was able to show his deep love and affection to his beloved Christine, even in front of others, and not just imitate a theatrical kiss, as he did ten years ago. A much more mature couple was kissing there right at that moment, not afraid to give and receive each other's love.

As it all ended, and people were congratulating them, Erik felt so much happiness he couldn't even describe. This happiness was missing from his life before, being accepted and not being an outsider. Everyone was wearing a mask. He wasn't treated as an oddity! Even his rival congratulated him, as they shook hands again and Raoul handed Noel back to Christine with a huge smile. Surprisingly, Erik did not gloat upon Raoul's missing fingers anymore and did not feel delight while receiving his congratulations. He would have laughed right in his face ten years ago if he was present at their wedding, saying "See, Chagny? The better had won!" But now, as he looked at the young man, who was only 31 years old, he was feeling sorry for him. He looked so weary, so old. Even though he smiled, his eyes did show some tiredness and his face was a bit wrinkled, especially on his forehead. He unintentionally put his hand on Raoul's shoulder and sent a knowing glance in his eyes that Raoul seemed to understand.

When everyone had left and the family remained together in front of the church, Erik whispered a soft "Thank you." In Christine's ear while gently kissing her face. It was a hard work to teach the whole Mass to the choir and the Masked Ball themed wedding was just a sweet idea of her. He knew exactly that it wasn't only for him, but also for Mahtab. She could attend at their wedding this way, without any scandal happening to the poor little one. Erik was happy to find out that Christine finally understood that covering Mahtab's face wasn't out of cruelty, but love. And so she and Erik won't have to feel awkward about wearing a mask, she organized a Masked Ball themed wedding. No one is showing their real face- however beautiful or ugly they may be.

At home, Christine was surprised to hear that Erik and the children had a surprise for her as well. Especially she was amazed by the fact that the two talkative little kids did not say a word about it earlier. They had much self-control, for sure. She admired them for that, as she did not have so much patience even at her age, and nearly spoiled all the surprise for Erik. She literally had to bite her lips not to say too much. And what a surprise it was! She was looking at her children and Erik in awe and in tears as Mahtab was playing the piano, Flo was playing the violin, she did not even knew he could do, and Erik was singing. The song itself was heartwarming, simple and cheerful, something that was clearly not written by Erik. She was so stunned to find out that her children did compose this song together with a minimal help by their father. When the performance ended, Mahtab jumped off of the piano bench and bowed her head towards her mother, and Florian held the small violin just like an experienced violinist while courtesy. Christine was clapping happily and praised the children to no end, kissing and hugging them constantly, not even being able to decide which of the children got or should get more kisses. She was crying and laughing at the same time.

\- Wasn't it good, Mama? – Flo asked curiously.

\- Oh, Flo… it was the most beautiful song I have ever heard. Grandpa would be so proud of you two, my sweets! Thank you!

\- Ahem… - Erik cleared his throat and chuckled naughtily. – Christine… Erik does exist as well… still…

\- Oh, but of course he does. – Christine rose up from squatting position, walking to Erik. – And I am the happiest of wives knowing he does.

\- And may Erik ask for a kiss as well? – He teased. – Or did you run out of them?

\- Well… - Christine smiled. – I might have.

\- Oh that means Erik has to fill you up with them! – He grabbed her hand, kissing it gently for numerous times, then pulled her closer to himself, kissing her face endlessly.

\- Oh Erik… not in front of the children! – She giggled.

\- Why not? – Erik asked. – I love you! And our children should know it as well! I love you!

\- I love you, Papa! – Mahtab ran to Erik and hugged his leg.

\- Me too! – Flo did not want to be left out of loving, so he reached out to his parents eagerly. Erik picked him up and sat him on his arm, playfully stroking Flo's dark hair.

\- I love you all.- Erik said happily. – I love you all, and you are so dear to me. No one has such a precious family as I do.

\- I think so too. – Christine lay her head on Erik's shoulder. – I wish ten more years for us, my dear and sweet Erik.

\- Let it be rather twenty. – He chuckled and kissed his wife's forehead with love.


	37. Chapter 37

On a beautiful September afternoon, not much after Florian's 3rd Birthday, Erik was peacefully gardening in the sunshine in the presence of his children and Shadow playing around him. Noel was put in a blue bassinet in the grass next to Erik, he was sitting in it, clapping at everything he saw, especially at the dog. The animal was jumping around happily, sniffing at the small boy, and he seemed to like him just as the other children. Noel would reach out from time to time, tapping the dog's nose or grabbing his face from the two sides and laugh. He would giggle endlessly as the light wind blew on him, he really enjoyed the garden, just as his father. He was babbling something in baby language to which Erik would tell short replies to amuse both of them, and maybe make the child recognize the language spoken to him and slowly learn to talk.

Erik loved to garden. He had beautiful yellow and pink rose bushes he loved to take care of and they were blooming. It was a nice thing to spend time on, it would settle his nerves and give him some refreshing thoughts. It occupied his mind while Christine was away at the Opera and it gave him some time to himself while the children could be taken outside with him to have some fresh air. They needed it, to finally be children. Mahtab would spend hours by reading or studying structures, and Flo was playing his violin a lot. They did not go out to the garden by themselves, only if Erik took them out with himself. Studying and practicing in the house all day long was certainly not for their health. He did not want to raise child prodigies, only healthy and happy children.

He loved to look at flowers, smell them and surround himself with them. If he was surrounded by beautiful things, maybe he seems to be less ugly and monstrous, even though he thought he should look laughable with a skull face, watering plants. The weather wasn't too unbearably hot as in summer, it was warm and refreshing, but not the hot Erik was nearly unable to take. Mahtab and Flo were playing hide and seek around him, and he was watering the flowers. He smiled as his children amused him, Mahtab, for example was counting up until 1.000, so Flo had much time to hide. Mahtab was a proud little thing, she loved to show off her skills to her brother so the younger one has a reason to admire her. Not that the small boy did not look up on his sister any other way – his adoration and awe were sensible towards the girl, who tried to follow the relationship pattern she saw from Erik – she was constantly protecting and teaching Flo. The little boy wasn't much talented in hiding, as he would always give away his hiding place by humming loudly. Really, only a deaf person would be able to ignore that.

\- Shadow, away from the bushes! – Erik ordered. – If you dig holes there again I swear I will leash you.

The dog obediently walked away from the roses and lay down on the porch to chill in the shadow a bit. Noel pointed at the dog, giggled then imitated dog barking.

\- Oh you clever little fellow. – Erik smiled at him. – I could eat you up, you are so sweet.

Noel was really a cute baby. He had quite much light blonde hair, just as Christine, and greenish blue eyes. His pointy nose and chin made his face unique but thankfully not ugly. He was still very pale skinned, but it did not make him look ill any more, he just looked like a small porcelain doll. He was a giggly little thing, he would babble and giggle a lot. He didn't cry as much as he did before, he slept calmer and most importantly: quieter!

Suddenly the doorbell at the garden gate rang. Erik lifted his head up in surprise. Who that might be? The Daroga still went to them for visits on Sundays or whenever he was invited but they did not make up an appointment for that day. They did not have any other visitors, and Christine would be sure way too early, and she had a key. Cautiously he rose up and put on his human mask to walk to see who that might be, and he quietly told Mahtab to go to the backyard until he calls for her. The children ran behind the house and continued playing as he heard the noises. He was slowly and cautiously walking along the path, small pebbles were rattling under his shoes. As he reached closer, he could see some blondish locks through the branches of the trees by the path, and between the leaf patterns of the beautiful wrought iron gate. As he opened it, he could finally recognize the unexpected newcomer: Raoul de Chagny.

\- Good afternoon, Erik. – He greeted politely, clearly not in a harmful way.

\- I bid you welcome. – Erik replied with surprise. – Well… Christine… isn't at home right now. She is working at the Opera. If you wish to talk to her, she is there. Or… should I tell her any messages…?

\- I… I am not looking for Christine this time, Monsieur. – The boy assured. – I am here to talk to you.

\- Me? – Erik's jaw dropped in astonishment. What business would they have together? – Umm… come in… I guess. – He turned around and showed Raoul in. He smiled awkwardly then bowed his head towards Erik.

\- Thank you… I don't wish to bother you for long. – He reached out his left hand for handshake but Erik nervously let out a small chuckle, then explained.

\- I… I have to… wash my hands… I don't wish to… shake your hand with… these dirty hands of mine… you know.

\- Oh… I see. – Raoul nodded.

\- Umm… well… sit down, please… I will be… right back. – Erik pointed at the nice set of garden furniture behind Raoul, which contained a table, a few chairs and a bench before disappearing somewhere.

Raoul sat down in one of the chairs and looked around in the nicely trimmed and tidied small park. Erik even had a fountain installed. He imagined Christine sitting on the edge of that fountain on a hot summer day and couldn't help but smile. What a beautiful home this couple had… Christine and the children sure live between beautiful surroundings. He had to admit that Erik had taste.

He still wasn't able to imagine what that family life can be with a man like Erik. Does he have those fits of rage often? He was terrifying at that inn, while right at this moment he rather seems to be terrified of Raoul. Could he be really a good husband as Christine says? Christine was always an independent and strong woman. She might have left Erik a long time ago if he mistreated her. And that child seemed to adore her father. Why would she adore an abusive monster? Might be he was really a good father?

The house owner returned shortly, bowing towards his guest, Raoul noticed he also put on a jacket and tidied his appearance. He even seemed to shine his shoes. Oh that man really took care of the details – you don't just simply sit down to talk to your rival with rolled up sleeves and unbuttoned shirt neck as he was before. Raoul wanted to stand up again to greet Erik, but he just lifted his hand up to show him "Stay", then he sat down in front of him at the other end of the small table. He wore treble clef shaped cufflinks and an elegant cravat with a silver cravat pin. Raoul had to admit Erik was now more elegantly dressed than him.

\- Well… oh… - He jumped up again nervously. – Would you like… something… to drink…? Wine, perhaps? Or something stronger? – He added stutteringly.

\- Oh, no, thank you, Erik, I don't wish to bother for a long time. Thank you for your offer though.

\- So nothing? Coffee…? Should I make…?

\- No- no, thank you Erik.

\- Well. – Erik cleared his throat, pacing back and forth for some seconds, then jumped back down on his seat. – Then… you say you came to talk to Erik. Tell me… what do you wish of him?

\- I would have a commission for you. If you accepted it.

\- Commission? – His eyes narrowed. – What kind of commission? Music?

\- No… I am not good at that art, sadly.

\- Then? Do you want to rebuild your mansion? I am retired, Raoul, I don't think I could handle that work now. Even taking care of my children wears me out sometimes.

\- No, it is not a building commission either, even though I admire how your home looks like.

\- Thank you. – He nodded out of routine. – Then?

\- Erik, I heard you were a very clever man and you had knowledge the world don't even knows about. Christine told me so.

\- Ehh… Christine likes to flatter me. – He looked away embarrassedly. – But would you get straight to the point, Raoul?

\- Oh, yes, of course. – He nodded. – Well… I need help. I need something only you can… create. Christine told me you once came up with an invention which would be very useful for me.

\- Oh. – Erik scratched his head. – What kind of … _invention_ that may be?

\- Do you remember the doll you built for your child? – Raoul's voice turned softer.

\- Cadence? – Erik tilted his head to the side. – Yes, I do remember it. I did not think Christine had mentioned it to you.

\- She did… and said it was totally mobile.

\- Yes.

\- Even… its… fingers.

\- Oh. – Erik leaned closer to the young man who turned somewhat pale. – I understand now. – He added on a serious tone.

\- Erik, you don't know how much time I needed, thinking to finally be able to show up here in your house to ask for this… I spent nights awake…

\- Yes, I know, my boy. – Erik answered understandingly.

\- Erik… do you think you could… build me… my fingers? Cadence was able to move those fingers…

\- Hm. Well, the only problem is that Cadence wasn't an alive thing out of blood and flesh. I created it out of metal, wood, screws, gears and such. I think you should consult to a doctor, which I am not.

\- Doctors did offer prosthetic hands for me... but those were… so, at first those are completely immobile… I look like a mannequin doll with them and to tell the truth I have tried to wear one before but it got…

\- Constantly infected. – Erik finished the sentence.

\- Yes. How do you know that?

\- I had to try out… numerous… prosthetic noses… until I found one which did not cause me a nasal infection every time I wore it. I know more of this issue than you could imagine. But I am not a doctor, as I said.

\- But you know a lot about healing people. You are kind of a doctor.

\- That's true I have studied human anatomy a lot because I wanted to find out… why I am so different. And I studied ways of medicine but not for curing… herbs and plants can be either used as medicine or poison… if it is medicine for one person, it can kill another. But… I am still not saying I am a doctor.

\- I see, but I rather need an engineer right now, which you clearly are.

\- I am many things, Raoul. I am an architect, a magician, a musician, an engineer… I am anything I want to be, other than being a normal man.

There was some pause, but Raoul just stared him in the eye and suddenly repeated.

\- Please… I need your help.

Erik wiped some longer locks of his hair out of his forehead with trembling hand, then started playing drums with two of his fingers on his lower lip while blowing out some air. It might have seemed weird for an outsider, and Raoul wasn't sure what that meant. If Christine was there with them, she could have explained Raoul that it gave away Erik was thinking things through. Some minutes passed and one could hear nothing else but birds tweeting on the trees and the older children playing somewhere further in the garden. Finally Erik started speaking again.

\- If I MIGHT agree to help, you must understand that I have only built robots up until this time. I never tried if it works with a human being. It will only be an experiment.

\- I understand.

\- And if things won't turn out as you wanted them to, will you accuse me about the outcome?

\- No. This was entirely my decision and I shall face the consequences.

\- And you are absolutely aware of all risks?

\- I am, but it is my only hope for a normal life. I don't want to go on like this if there is even a hint of hope that it can be changed, and that crumble of hope is your mastermind.

\- Oh. I don't remember you ever calling me that. – Erik smirked and shortly chuckled, which gave away his amusement. He was like a child, who loved to show off his talents- just as his daughter.

\- Look, Erik, I don't… want to be Monsieur Lobster any more.

Erik lowered his head in a sudden change of his mood. He sighed. If someone, he knew it the most how very humiliating it was to be called by various names regarding one's appearance. He nodded and leaned closer to Raoul.

\- Erik wants to ask for your forgiveness about that comment. He was getting jealous about your sudden appearance and did not think before he spoke. He did not mean it. But if you want a revenge you may tell me jokes about my nose.

\- No. – Raoul shook his head. – I forgive you and wish not to repay you by any immature jokes. I have to admit you have changed a lot.

\- So did you. You matured. – Erik replied. – You grew up to be a man. May I ask what has happened to you? I mean your hand. It might be important for designing your new fingers. How did they get the frostbites and how long were you without treatment? Can you still feel with your other fingers?

\- We had a shipwreck with my fellow soldiers and I had fallen into icy water. Somehow managed to swim out… I was found later, I don't know how much time passed. My lungs had collapsed but I was saved. I woke up in the hospital. I was informed I needed surgery with my fingers but we had to wait for my lungs to get a bit stronger as I would have died otherwise. Actually they only told me about two fingers in the beginning, but by the time I got stronger, my ring finger couldn't be saved either… I can feel with my other fingers but sometimes they get numb.

\- I see. Do you get phantom pain? I mean do you still feel your missing fingers sometimes?

\- Yes. I get terrible cramps in… nothing. Why do you ask it?

\- It means you have working nerves in your hand, that's why. Good. Let me see it.

Raoul reached out with his deformed hand towards Erik, who leaned closer and examined it with scientific interest. Raoul also got curious about something and he bit his lower lip not to accidentally ask something stupid, but his curious mind overcome his politeness in five seconds and the inquiry just burst out of him:

\- Can you ever feel your nose then?

Erik stared at him in astonishment for a small amount of time, but after he nodded.

\- It sometimes itches, yes. I catch myself scratching the air in front of my face. Even though it wasn't removed, I was born without it.

\- I am sorry for asking.

\- No worries. Humans are curious. About your hand… I think I can solve it. – Erik added after some minutes. – I have a plan for it. We will start working on it today.

\- We…? – Raoul inquired.

\- Mahtab and I. She is my right hand, she helps me with everything.

\- That child isn't even six years old yet…

\- I know, but she is extremely talented with building and designing structures. I only accept working on it if you accept the fact that she helps me.

\- I do. – Raoul nodded. What can go wrong, possibly…? Erik sure only gives her some non-important works to do, just something a child can help with… supplying tools, or such. What else could a six year- old help with building a prosthetic hand?

\- See me next week on Wednesday. I believe up until that we will come up with something you can try out. – Erik stood up and bowed his head. – Well, now if you excuse me, I have to take a look at Noel.

\- Of course… I know the way out. Thank you.

\- Don't thank me in advance. – Erik turned back a bit. – And don't forget one thing: that hand will never be like the one you were born with. Just a replacement that will suffice.

\- I know. But I will be thankful for even that.

As Raoul walked out of the garden, he could hear Erik's voice:

\- Mahtab, dear! We have a project to work on! Come here my darling!


	38. Chapter 38

Raoul was excited and anxious at the same time when Wednesday finally had arrived and he had an appointment with Erik to see what he came up with. The man did not really encourage him to be optimistic about the subject the week before, but Christine really admired Erik's talent. Raoul knew that Christine wasn't easily amazed by just everyday talents, and she often called Erik a genius. If he was really a genius, it sure meant he was able to work something out. Just something to make his life easier… He knew they weren't the best friends earlier, but he still accepted to help him out in the end – this act of his showed he wasn't actually such a monster. Raoul was biting his lips as he approached the majestic looking and huge Victorian mansion Erik lived in with his family. As he wanted to ring the doorbell he already saw Erik walking towards him along the path, holding Mahtab's hand. The child looked like she was extremely excited.

\- Here is he, Papa! Tell him I was very clever! Will you tell?

\- I will if you shut your little face for enough time so I can finally have a word.

The gate opened and Mahtab jumped in front of the visitor, causing him a smaller heart attack.

\- Hello, Monsieur, please come in! We made a better hand for you than your old one!

\- Mahtab Geneviéve, shut it! – Erik shook his index finger at the girl scolding. He only called the girl by both of her names if he wanted to be serious and strict with her, so Mahtab really fell silent and looked at Raoul with her curious uneven colored eyes. – I am sorry, Raoul, she is overly excited. – Erik explained.

\- Oh, Erik… that's nothing, she is just a child yet.

\- If she doesn't learn the proper way to act now, she never will. – Erik said, then led Raoul along the path to guide him in the house. Mahtab was jumping behind them. She grew a lot during that summer, Raoul could remember she was smaller in March, now she reached up to Erik's chest if she was standing straight. Kind of tall for a six year old.

\- You have grown a lot. – Raoul stated, looking at Mahtab.

\- Oh, tell me about it. – Erik laughed. – We had to change all her wardrobe, she keeps growing everything out. And she needed new shoes twice this year.

\- Isn't she a bit tall for a six year old?

\- She isn't even six yet. – Erik replied. – Only in November she will turn six, but she is as tall as an eight- nine year old. I was the same way, but at least I was a boy.

\- I am too! I am your assistant. – She chirped again.

\- Yes- yes you are. – Erik agreed.

\- We have been working on it for a week, did we, Papa?

\- Yes, we did.

\- Do you have any good news for me? – Raoul inquired nervously.

\- I think I do. But we have to see how it works in action.

They entered Erik's study and the host asked Raoul to take a seat. Raoul sat down in an armchair next to Erik's desk and as he looked around in the room, he couldn't see anything but bookcases everywhere. At least thousands of books were in this room.

\- Reach out your hand. – Erik leaned closer. Mahtab wasn't around anymore, for a split second Raoul thought that the small skeleton finally walked out to talk to her mother or such, but she suddenly reappeared with a wooden box in her hands. – Here it is, in this case. – Erik took the box from Mahtab and placed it on the desk to open it.

As Raoul leaned closer, he saw an obviously prosthetic hand, only with the bare wires shown it was made of. He was a bit of disappointed upon seeing only these metal "claws". He thought he will get something resembling at least a prosthetic hand that doctors may give him, not these bare uncovered wires. How can these be worn in rainy weather for example? This is all Erik knows?

\- Don't look at me with such a bitter expression, my boy, it is not finished yet. – Erik said. – I want to see how it works at all before I finish it. It is only a prototype.

\- So… I thought it is something finished. – He let out a relieved sigh.

\- But of course not. Erik would never give such a draft out of his hands. Try to put it on. It works like if you put on gloves, and secure it on your wrist with a band. It will be covered mostly by your shirt cuffs, but if you want, I can paint the band so it will resemble your skin tone. Of course, if people look closely, they can still see it is fake. Just like my face, but oh well… we try our best to hide the flaws.

\- We turned out kind of alike. – Raoul sighed, while strapping the rubber band on his wrist.

He felt like he was looking ridiculous, but at least, there was SOMETHING at the place of those three fingers.

\- That's right. Now I explain how it works. – Erik continued. – Your fingers are hopefully mobile. If you observe it closely, you can see a small button under your pinky on the palm side. You have to press it so the machine works. Press it continuously and try to move your finger. If you release the button, the machine stops working and all three fingers remain relaxed. I know it isn't the most aesthetical way to hold something, but it will suffice, I believe.

\- If it really works, I will be more than thankful…

\- Try it. – Erik ordered.

Raoul pressed the button and tried hard to bend the index finger and to his huge astonishment it worked. The metal bent by different parts, as it really had joints in a finger. His index and middle finger were moving up and down as he voluntarily lifted them while pressing the button. It made some moderate squeaky sound, but it was bearable. Raoul reached out towards a fountain pen placed on the desk and tried to grab it. He was able to pick it with the tip of two fingers, but as he tried to lift, it constantly fell back on the desk.

\- Of course you need a lot of practice. – Erik explained, pointing at Raoul's shaky hand. – You haven't been using your hand in ages. It is weaker. And you have to learn how to hold things like this, so I suggest you practice with pens or pencils that are unbreakable and you won't spill anything on yourself. Within time, you will be able to try to eat and drink with it – just be patient.

Raoul was unable to talk out of being so astonished and touched at the same time. He started silently crying out of happiness. He had fingers! He did not even mind the looks of the thing any more, he would have walked out of the room, wearing it proudly.

\- Don't cry son. I know what you think, but believe me you will be able to use it better if you let me finish it. I will cover it with some leather and it will look more realistic, and plus it will protect the machine from getting wet. Moreover, you won't feel pain by the metal constantly rubbing against your hand if I cover it.

\- Erik… Erik… you… you are a genius…

\- Stop it, don't praise me for a work I did not even finish yet.

\- Do you like it? – Mahtab inquired curiously.

\- I do… I love it more than you could imagine…

\- I helped with it. – She announced happily.

\- We know, Mahtab. – Erik nodded and patted the child's head. – But now please go and see if Mama needs help, will you?

\- I will! – She nodded and ran out of the room.

\- She doesn't yet know what a serious matter this is. Please forgive her excitement. She helped a lot to me and she loved the process.

\- How much did she help?

\- She assembled the whole thing. I made the parts, but she put it together.

\- Is she… so talented?

\- She is. – Erik nodded proudly. – She is a small engineer. – He smiled and wiped some tears out of the corner of his eyes then cleared his throat and turned back to Raoul with a serious expression again. – Well, please visit me next week and I can give it to you.

\- I will… Erik, I thank…

\- Later. Thank me later if you need to. – Erik lifted his hand up protesting. – See you next week.

\- May I… talk to your wife now? – Raoul asked softly as he rose up from the chair.

\- You are a man of your own will, my friend. You may do as you want, and if you and Christine both wish to talk, who am I to say otherwise?

\- Thank you, Erik. – He smiled and left the study. As he turned back to shut the door behind him, he saw Erik sitting down in his chair at his desk, picking up a book to read.

Another week passed and as Raoul arrived to Erik's home, he already knew that he was going to get something amazing, he was running towards the house as a small boy who just received his certificate on the very last day of school, with joyful expectations. As he arrived to the house, Christine arrived to answer the door with Noel in her hands and Flo running after her.

\- Oh Christine, what a delight to see you again! – He exclaimed and handed her a huge box he held. – This is for the children. – He added.

\- Oh thank you, Raoul. – She smiled. – I am happy to see you as well. Please forgive Erik, he is a bit of late, I don't know when will he arrive back… he left two hours ago and did not arrive yet… oh thank you this is a big box of chocolate… they will be spoiled.

\- They deserve it… Especially Mahtab. She is very clever… and… where did Erik go?

\- I don't know. – Christine admitted. – He did not tell me. He sometimes goes away somewhere and returns one or two hours later. I hope he arrives back soon. Until that please come in and make yourself comfortable.

\- Thank you, Christine. – Raoul smiled. – And Mahtab?

\- She left with Erik. They do everything together if possible. – She laughed.

As Christine poured a cup of tea for Raoul and herself in the drawing room, she suddenly heard a strange noise from outside. Instead of horse clapping and rattling of carriage wheels, she could hear some loud noise she only heard sometimes in downtown: an automobile arrived nearby. What? She curiously peeked outside, noticing the new vehicle rolling on the road in front of the house. She recognized Erik and Mahtab onboard with Erik driving the thing.

\- God in Heaven! – She gasped before fainting.

When she regained her consciousness she saw Erik kneeling in front of the sofa where she was placed and looking at her with worry. His glasses reflected the light coming from the window he faced, and he wore a driver cap she only saw on coachmen before.

\- Are you feeling better, Christine? – He asked worriedly.

\- What… what has happened…? I heard an automobile… I swear I…

\- Oh yes, you did. – Erik said proudly, standing up to his full height, straightening his spine. – We now have a Peugeot, my love.

\- Why? What for? – Christine straightened up and sat up confusedly.

\- So I don't have to always hire a brougham when we go somewhere. And I hate to walk on foot.

\- But… but it is… DANGEROUS!

\- Not more dangerous than a carriage would be, it can hit me anytime as well. – Erik shrugged.

\- But these are faster and…

\- A bit noisier. – Erik added laughing.

\- You will run into something and you will die! – She pointed at Erik.

\- I know how to drive. – He replied. – I got my driving license that proves I am able to navigate this thing. It was something I wanted to do – to have a vehicle of my own finally. I always loved new things, you know me.

\- You have given a bunch of money for something so dangerous and…

\- Christine, I don't wish to continue this conversation in front of our guest. Please don't be rude to me and respect me just to the level you don't argue with me in front of others.

\- Don't discipline me as if I was your CHILD!

They stared at each other for some seconds, then Erik turned around and left for the hall as he realized Raoul wasn't in the room any more. The man was waiting for Erik politely in the hall, while Mahtab and Flo were chit-chatting around him.

\- Just imagine Flo it was AMAZING! – Mahtab was whooping while jumping around.

\- Brrr brrr! I want to go too, I want to go too with you! – Flo clapped in excitement. – Give me your cap, Papa! – He ran to Erik and hugged his leg.

\- Here you go. – Erik gently placed the cap on Flo's head, who ran back to his sister excitedly. – Come, Monsieur, I give you your hand. – Erik turned to Raoul who followed him to his study.

The case now contained a hand that looked like a glove with three fingers, it looked like a normal set of fingers right now, the paint even matching Raoul's skin tone as perfectly as possible. The fingers were so detailed they even contained painted on nails, so from further they really seemed to be real.

\- Well, here it is. – Erik announced. – You can wash your hands while wearing it, but too much water will cause harm in it. The band is now painted in the same color as the fingers, so if your cuffs are rolled up, it won't be too noticeable.

\- Oh Erik… THANK YOU! Thank you so much! – Raoul put up his new fingers and looked at them in awes. His eyes were filled with tears of joy. – How can I thank you for it? – Raoul reached out for Erik, who subconsciously backed away from him a bit.

\- Oh… you don't need to thank me. I am… glad I could help.

\- Please let me thank you somehow… it means so much to me…

\- There is no need to thank me, really. I helped you because you are a person very dear to my wife. I helped her… I made her happy.

\- Oh… let me at least offer you something in return then.

\- I don't need your money. – Erik retorted coldly. – Erik has money on his own, thank you.

\- Not necessarily by money. – Raoul looked at Erik. – By any service you or your family would need… for example… I think you would like to have some alone time with your wife… the kids are always around… when were you at the Opera, for example?

\- Oh… - Erik glanced at the young man with eyes wide- open by sudden realization. – Oh… well… I think we could use a night at the Opera… just the two of us… how nice it would be…

\- I would gladly take care of the children if… you wanted to go.

\- Oh… Erik accepts your offer. – He smiled. – Thank you.

\- But of course, Erik… - Raoul bowed his head.

Erik was glad by the thought he would be able to spend a whole night together with Christine, just the two of them, watching an Opera. Christine, rather coldly though, did agree to go with him to watch that evening's performance: Lohengrin by Wagner. She was curious of the opera itself, so that was the main reason she said yes. She was still angry with Erik, but if Raoul was so willing to help them, and she could finally hear that Wagner opera she was waiting for… let that happen.

\- Raoul looks like a robot with his new hand. – Mahtab said happily, when Erik reappeared in the hall where the children and Raoul were playing.

\- It is true. – Raoul laughed. – But you may call me Tonton Raoul. – He added. – You all may call me Tonton Raoul.

\- We have a Tonton Mohammed. – Flo stated. – Can we have more?

\- But of course, Flo! – Raoul nodded. – One can have many tontons. Do you know how many Uncles I did have?

\- No. How many?

\- Six!

\- That's a lot! – Flo whistled by astonishment.

\- Ton ton Raoul is a robot! – Mahtab said again- He is Robo Tonton!

\- Mahtab, stop it! – Erik scolded.

\- I don't mind it. – Raoul smiled and patted the girl's hair. – Please don't scold her. I am indeed Robo Tonton. Partly replaced.

\- God… well, we are leaving shortly, are you sure you still wish to stay with three of Erik's offsprings? I warn you, they are tiring.

\- I love children. – Raoul smiled. – I always wanted to have them.

\- Be careful what you wish for. – Erik chuckled shortly, being sure that it was the first and the very last time Raoul wanted to spend with his children. Not that they were ill- mannered, but they were most certainly a bunch full of energy and Mahtab was the most talkative child he ever met in his life. She even talked in her sleep sometimes.

Erik guided Christine out of the house, they left arm in arm. Christine was breathtakingly beautiful, wearing a gown she did not have on before, she truly looked like a princess in it. Her hair was done and she wore make up that made her face look more like an angel.

\- Oh no, Erik, there is no way I am going by that. – Christine shook her head when Erik tried to help her in the car.

\- Christine, don't be like this, please. Please give me a chance. – Erik sighed, pleading.

\- Well… I am just afraid it is not safe. I worry about you.

\- I prove it is not dangerous and you will see it well worth the money as well. Please let me prove it by taking you to the Opera.

\- All right. – Christine nodded coldly. – But if something goes wrong you have to promise you sell this monster instantly.

\- All right, I promise. – Erik nodded, knowing there will be absolutely no chance for that.

As Erik was driving, Christine realized it took them much less time to get to the Opera from the suburbs than at any other time, and nothing has happened the whole time. She was surprised how quick it went and it did not feel dangerous at all.

\- I think… we may have this machine… for some time. – Christine sighed in agreement, then smiled at Erik.

\- I knew you will instantly change your mind my love. – He laughed shortly. – It is a love, a lifestyle. And we will go by this everywhere and won't need anyone to take us anywhere. We will be on our own.

\- I actually like the idea. And.. I like the idea that there is just the two of us tonight… no kids.

\- No kids. – Erik nodded. – Only you and Erik… and Wagner.

The Opera was a fantastic success. They watched it together from box five and it was such a good feeling to finally do NOTHING just listen to music. The music itself was to their liking as well, Erik found it an interesting musical experiment, and appreciated both the libretto and the music.

\- Do you know what would make me even happier? – Erik whispered in Christine's ear dreamily.

\- What? – She smiled back naughtily.

\- If instead of Rose Caron I could watch it with Christine Daaé.

\- Oh, you want me to be a maiden again? – Christine teased. – And besides, I doubt you would like that.

\- Why? – Erik gasped in surprise.

\- Because if I was onstage you wouldn't be able to hold my hand as you do now. – She pet Erik's ear with one of her fingers. – And I couldn't do this. – She placed a soft kiss on Erik's lips.

\- Oh- uh… - Erik blushed bright red under his human face mask. – You… got me.

With that he hugged his sweet little wife close to himself, and let her rest her head on his shoulder while they drifted away to a higher form of reality, swimming on endless melodies of Wagner.


	39. Chapter 39

The family gained a new member. The three children had another "Uncle" suddenly other than the Daroga. It wasn't only good for them and Erik and Christine, but for Raoul as well.

Raoul de Chagny, as a retired and injured sailor, was sent home as "injured and unable for service", and he spent the last few years quietly, retreated in a family property outside Paris to hide from most of the crowd, ashamed of his injury and crying over his lost love and fingers. He was now physically and emotionally (but thankfully, not financially) broken, felt old, and had lost all hope to have a normal family. He thought no woman would want him with an injured hand – and he only loved Christine Daaé in all his life. He knew well that the woman was other man's, but he still did not wish to be unfaithful to the girl's memory, especially after spending the longest night of his life in that Torture Chamber. He felt he needed to stay with her, at least in soul, and never was able to cheat on her. Not even with the courtesans. It wasn't his style. Raoul, even though he had long and desperate years alone, and was depressed most of the time, refused to bury himself alive and become a drunkard as many of his mates would do. On the contrary, he wanted to occupy his thoughts and not to indulge in his depression a lot. He picked up new hobbies, and he read a lot. One of his hobbies became that he started learning new languages. He did not know when and how would he actually use them, but learning words and phrases gave him hours of occupation and he did not have much time left to dwell on his misfortune. He sometimes wondered if Erik felt the same way under the Opera and sometimes he caught himself understandingly talking to his arch enemy. He wanted to be strong, and he had to face that fate made him grow up abruptly. After his brother's death, the affair with Christine Daaé, and the awful shipwreck and hospital stay he wasn't the young and girly 21 year- old boy he used to be when he met Christine. He matured a lot throughout the years, and knew that he made many mistakes as well during those months when that awful little Angel of Music scenario played out. Even though he was still sad about the outcome, he was still happy about Christine's happiness. She seemed to be glad with Erik and her children.

How much he wanted children! He used to imagine when he was 21, that he and Christine will get married and have children. One of the boys could have been named Philippe… He was sure Christine wouldn't mind it. Seeing Christine with children broke his heart a bit in the beginning. Those children could have been his, and the two boys were absolutely adorable. And Mahtab wasn't that bad either, especially since he found out how very talented that girl was. It creeped him out in a way, but since she and Erik made his hand for him, he knew that girl was s kind little thing, always willing to help. He was happy to spend time with the children of Erik and Christine after some time. This was the only way to spend time with any children at all, this will be the closest way to see and have children with him.

Erik and Raoul slowly got closer to each other and they did not feel too much awkward about the other man's presence any more. When Erik and Christine arrived back from the Opera that night and saw Raoul with the children, Erik knew that the man was kind to them and he got touched by the fact that Chagny put Mahtab to bed with the others and he even caressed her deformed small face. How could a man bear himself to touch the child? Only the Daroga touched her other than family, as he was used to her appearance, but Raoul was clearly terrified of the child before. But not anymore. As Erik made sure of Raoul's growing affection towards his daughter, Erik finally felt relief and thankfulness. He wanted to thank Raoul for accepting Mahtab, and as he wanted the child to get used to other people than her closest family, he invited Raoul to his home to spend time with them from time to time. The young man, even though he would have died of admitting this, was thankful as well to spend time with Christine and her family and accepted Erik's invitation with happiness. They slowly and steady got used to each other, and Raoul had to admit Erik wasn't that a monster at home. Christine, of course, was glad to know the two men she liked and loved a lot, were getting into a kind of friendly relationship. She wasn't thorn between her childhood friend and her husband, and it made her much calmer. She loved to talk to Raoul still, and yet Erik was still a bit of jealous sometimes, he never ever threw a tantrum again about the young man. On the contrary. He was a frequent guest, just as the Persian. There were times when both of the Uncles, Raoul and the Persian were invited for a Sunday lunch to Erik's home and they had to admit Erik was an excellent cook and a great host.

One day, in early winter of 1892, when such a Sunday occurred again, Raoul got an idea. Since he had not much time to talk to the Daroga yet, and he did not know him too well, they were getting to know each other on these Sundays, Raoul suddenly felt the urge to learn something new.

\- Mohammed, my dear friend, may I ask a favor? – He inquired carefully.

\- Of course. Anything I could help you with. – The Persian nodded.

\- Please teach me some words in Farsi. – Raoul asked. – I love learning new languages, this is one of my new hobbies.

\- But of course! – The Daroga smiled. – I did not think one would want to learn my language.

He taught Raoul the simplest phrases, mostly just to say Hello and introduce yourself in Persian. They both agreed to go slow and steady. Mahtab, though was crawling around in the room with a toy locomotive and played, did not seem to be there spiritually, she was just among the adults as she liked their presence a lot. The Daroga and Raoul thought she wasn't even paying attention to what they were talking about. Erik returned with coffee, and from that, they did not talk any more about Farsi language. They were playing chess mostly, or talking, but Mahtab disappeared from the room after a while to go play with her siblings.

The next morning, when Christine went to greet the children and kiss them good morning, Mahtab jumped off of her bed, kissed Christine and said:

\- Sobh bekheyr ! Haleh shoma chetor ast?

\- What… what did you say, Mahtab? – She asked with an indescribable surprise.

\- She said good morning and asked how you were. – Erik stepped in the room, and scratched his head. – I did not know she knows some Persian. When did you learn it, Mahtab?

\- Yesterday.

\- You weren't even paying attention. – Erik lifted her up and examined her just as if he saw her for the first time.

\- I was. – She grinned.

\- Hm…- Erik scratched his head again than sat on the bed with the girl on his lap. – Which language do you want to learn, my dear daughter, huh?

\- All of them. – The quick response came.

After Erik found out Mahtab's another hidden talent, he started teaching her to talk and write in other languages than her native French. She loved Persian and Italian the most, but English was also a good language to learn. She was an incredibly fast learner, just like Erik. Her only weak spot was music. She really wasn't the most talented in that field, but she enjoyed it nonetheless. Languages, however were just as easy to teach her to as mathematics or reading. It did not cause her any trouble to learn multiple languages. She did not mix up words, she did not confuse sentence structures, and she was able to talk in shorter sentences in a few weeks. Raoul and Tonton Mohammed were both astonished about the child's immense talent and memory.

\- That child scares me, Erik. – Mohammed stated half- jokingly.

\- I was the same way. – Erik shrugged, noticing nothing special about Mahtab talking in so many languages as a 6 year old, and counting like a grown up engineer.

\- Might be, but a child should not know so many things yet. She is only a child…

\- I can't tell her not to remember things.

\- I know but she might turn out just as a maximalist too perfectionist overly- compensating person as you are.

\- With such a face as we have it was to be expected. – Erik shrugged again. – How could we lead a "normal" life and turn out as a "normal' child if you look like this? I did not want more children, you know, but actually now I am happy she isn't an only child. At least she has real friends. Her brothers. Like this, she can turn out to be somewhat normal. Not like Erik. Hopefully.

\- Erik… have you thought of… teaching her… everything you know? – The Daroga inquired, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

\- Anything she is willing to learn. – He nodded.

\- But... you know what I mean, right?

\- Daroga, I have been waiting with that. I did not know when to start it, but I guess she is old enough now to learn… such things. She has to defend herself somehow. People will hurt her. No doubt. I am afraid in advance of what might happen to her once I can't keep her safe.

\- Keeping her safe isn't the same as keeping her locked up.

\- What should I do to her? Christine says I should let her meet other children. But what a normal parent would let their child close to mine? – He sighed and waved in the air.

\- You have a point, sadly. But still maybe you could… take her somewhere.

\- We are going on a vacation to Perros in June. I promised it to Christine the last spring. Until that I teach her to defend herself.

\- Erik… please promise you won't give her a Punjab lasso.

\- But of course, not. She is not old enough to handle it. She might strangle herself or the boys. I am not crazy.

\- Erik, do you allow me to explain her what murder means and why is that a bad thing…?

\- Why, is it a bad thing?

\- ERIK!

\- All right. What do you think, why are you still with us? You are an Uncle to her who teaches her the right things if her father is crazy. I need you Daroga.

\- You do fairly well, Erik. I did not think you will turn out to be half as a good father as you are. But I know what you mean. Well, at least you will have a great time together. I think she will love it. Just teach her to swim.

\- I will. But why are you talking about this as "you" instead of "we"?

\- Why, am I going there as well?

\- I wanted to ask you, yes. Of course, only if you want to.

\- But of course! – He exclaimed happily.

\- And also Raoul comes with us.

\- I hope you won't get into temptation and push him into the sea.

\- It won't have much use. He can swim, that handsome sailor.

\- It is not the right way to reason it. – The Daroga scolded.

\- I know- I know! . Erik's tone changed, just like if he was reciting the lesson he learned by heart from a history book and started sputtering: - It is a bad thing to murder people because there is no more valuable thing on Earth than a human's life and another human may not take it.

The Daroga nodded. At least Erik KNOWS the reason why not to kill anyone.

In the next few weeks Erik tried his best to teach Mahtab to defend herself, but she did not seem to get the hang of it. He did not force it on her, but wished she will learn to do it as soon as possible. It was a hard thing to explain to Mahtab as he never hurt her before and Mahtab did not hit or kick him either in a long time since she did not throw any more tantrums.

\- Why do you want me to hit you, Papa? – She asked with concern. – I love you, I don't want to hurt you.

\- It is just a game, Mahtab. – Erik explained. – We are playing.

\- I don't want to play this game to hit Papa.

\- Look, it doesn't hurt, it is a good thing. We are practicing.

\- What?

Erik's heart sank as he tried his best to collect what he should say to Mahtab. He knew that she was still afraid of the memories about the train and he just hoped she already forgot the incident when she was beaten as a toddler. He put his hand on Mahtab's shoulder and closed his eyes before a deep inhale.

\- Dear… do you remember what has happened earlier… when they hurt you?

\- I do. - She nodded, shuddering a bit.

\- I want to teach you what to do if it happens again. – Erik said softly.

\- I won't hit them. – She shook her head.

\- Don't say that, Mahtab, you shall.

\- I won't.

\- Why?

\- Because it hurts a lot. I don't want them to hurt a lot. Especially not you. Please don't make me.

\- But then what will you do? – Erik asked.

\- I run. – She stated simply.

\- My daughter is not a coward. My girl defends herself. – Erik said bitterly.

\- I run. – She repeated and left Erik kneeling there.

Other attempts resulted in the exact same outcome. She refused to hit or kick Erik in any given situation. He was trying to surprisingly sneak up on her sometimes, and imitate an attack, of course, not too rough, but it broke his heart when his daughter started crying instead of giving him a punch in the face.

\- Papa, why do you want to hurt me? I wasn't bad. – She hugged Erik, sniffing, rubbing her tear-soaked face all over Erik's chest.

\- Oh, Mahtab… why are you such a good hearted child? You shouldn't be so pure in your situation. – Erik cried as well, hugging Mahtab very close to himself.

Her mother and the Daroga were both relieved about the news that bothered Erik to no end, but he decided to leave the girl alone with this issue for a time. Maybe she isn't mature for fighting yet.

Christine suggested that they should try out a prosthetic nose on Mahtab instead of a mask when they take her to Perros. Erik agreed, and made a small fake nose attached to Mahtab's head with a rubber band, and made her wear it weeks before the departure so she will have time and opportunity to get used to it. She did not like it too much, of course. She complained she did not get much air through her nose anymore and it bothered her while eating as well. Erik removed his human mask and showed his old prosthetic nose to Mahtab and attached it for himself.

\- Look dear, now we are wins. – He smiled.

\- Mhm. – Mahtab nodded and smiled back. – All right.

After that, she slowly got used to her new nose and did not whine about it as she saw Papa walking in his own in the house as well. If he can handle it, she can too! She will show him she is a good and big girl, who can handle anything.

On a beautiful day in June, the whole family departed to go on a vacation. Mama was talking about this happening for weeks, so the older children were excited about it as much as possible. All of them, even Shadow was taken. Noel sat on Mama's lap and giggled endlessly, while pointing at everything he saw during the road to Perros. Mahtab and Flo were chatting or singing together while Erik tried his best to concentrate on driving, and ignoring Mahtab's sneaky attemprs of turn the wheel away.

\- If you don't stop it, I will tie you up. – He scolded her after a time.

Mahtab wasn't too happy for the reason that Christine made her wear a dress. It was a thing she did not do for a while and she stated it was uncomfortable for her. Christine still did not dismiss the idea of guiding her daughter back to a normal ladylike way of dressing and acting. She had a daughter, for God's sake! Mahtab's dress was navy blue, with a white collar and a red ribbon in her neck, and she wore a sailor hat like any fashionable girls in her age. She hated it. Sadly, Mama refused to pack her boyish clothes for the vacation.

\- You are beautiful and very sweet looking, my dear. Don't worry. You are a cute little girl.

Christine reassured her more times. Erik did not say a word to it, he only hoped that they won't meet too many people who might hurt Mahtab. Her nose- hole was covered, but it did not help her pale skin and missing half- lip, and sunken mismatched eyes. He would have put a mask on her if it did not anger Christine so much.

When they arrived, they met the Daroga and Raoul there. Shadow was instantly released to run as he wanted, and the children asked if they may go exploring as well. Erik instantly wanted to say no, as he wanted to keep an eye at the children, but the Daroga silenced him. He said he will be in their heels if something was about to happen, so the children were safe to go. Erik did not like the fact too much, but he had to admit that he was over protective about his children, so he finally agreed about staying in that small house they rented with Christine, Noel and Raoul while the Daroga took Flo and Mahtab outside to the shore.

\- Don't go near the water! – He yelled after them.

\- Oh Erik, please relax. – Christine smiled and placed a gentle kiss on Erik's forehead. – We are on a vacation. We will follow the children as well after we finish packing the suitcases inside.

\- We would be done if you did not carry the whole house with us for two weeks. – Erik moaned under his breath.

\- Who is talking now, huh? – Christine laughed. – Who carried a full orchestra?

\- It is just my violin, and the smaller one for Flo.

\- And a recorder, a harmonica, a mandolin and a triangle.

\- The harmonica fits in my pocket and it is for Mahtab. She may sit on rocks and play for the… whatever sea creatures she might see from there. And of course, I take proper musical instruments, what should I do at nights, other than playing… or reading perhaps?

\- Erik, you clearly don't understand the concept of vacations. People don't work while they are relaxing.

\- Erik never relaxes. – He muttered, lifting the last remaining suitcase out of the car.

While walking, Mahtab noticed a small figure sitting on a cliff near the shore. She tilted her head to the side to examine it more and then she saw it was another child. She was happy to see another young child other than her brothers and excitedly ran to the cliff to greet her mate. The other one did not move, not even when she approached the cliff very closely. It was another girl. She wore a plain yellow dress and she had long carrot red hair.

\- Hello there! – Mahtab greeted as the girl did not seem to notice her.

\- Hello. – The girl jumped a bit alarmed as she was suddenly startled up from her musings, but smiled as she turned her head towards Mahtab.

\- What are you doing here? – Mahtab went on.

\- I am listening to music.

\- Really? – She gasped. – And where are the musicians? – She looked around, seeing nothing.

\- Right here in front of you. – The red haired girl laughed, pointing at the roaring and splashing water.

\- Hm. You might be right. – Mahtab wondered for a second. – May I join?

\- Of course, you may. – The girl nodded. – Are you new to this place?

\- Yes. How do you know it? – Mahtab asked.

\- I have never heard your voice before.

\- I am on a vacation with Papa and Mama and with my two brothers.

\- Do you have brothers? – Her face lit up. – It sounds so good. – She added dreamily. – I always wanted siblings.

\- Why, don't you have them?

\- No. I am alone. With Mama.

\- Do you live here?

\- Yes. – She nodded.

\- What's your name?

\- I am Sophie. And you?

\- Mahtab.

\- What? – She asked with surprise.

\- Mahtab. – She repeated. – It means Moonlight.

\- Nice name. A bit of strange. – She smiled. – But I like it.

\- Do you want to be my friend? – Mahtab asked.

\- Of course. – She nodded. – I have no friends here. – She added a bit of sadly. – I am glad if you want to be.

They did not talk more for a time. Mahtab climbed up on the cliff next to Sophie to listen to music as well. She closed her eyes to hear it better. The Daroga smiled contently while leading Flo along the shore, explaining to him the beautiful sight they were looking at. Christine was right. Perros is really a magical place to visit.


	40. Chapter 40

Erik and Christine were walking along the shore where Christine felt like a little girl again. She was dancing and jumping around as if she was 8 years old. She was very happy that they brought the children to Perros. They will have a vacation they will never forget. She remembered back the old times with Papa, and hugged Erik in her bliss. Erik did not really know how to relax. He never had a time in his life when he was taken out to "have fun" and couldn't think up anything to do, and wasn't sure what he should feel. He was just following Christine around, and he enjoyed himself mostly, but he was a bit of bored, to be honest. Of course, he was glad that his wife enjoyed herself, but he was too serious compared to the girl's euphoria. With time, Christine calmed down a bit and just sat down in the sand with Noel on her lap, and Erik did the same, just looking at the water and his family. Noel was cute, sniffing in the air, looking around excitedly on her mother's lap and Shadow was running around near them. It was so idyllic.

Up until the point when Erik suddenly noticed Mahtab on a cliff with another child.

GOD! The kid will kick her off of the cliff when she gets scared of her appearance! He could already see the child falling and hitting her head against a smaller rock, possibly ending her life or suffering concussion! He jumped up on his feet and with tense muscles, ready to jump, was waiting for Mahtab's cry for help…

\- Aren't they sweet? – Christine melted. – Look, the two girls! I think Mahtab found a friend. Finally.

\- Why won't that girl scream? – Erik stuttered nervously the only sentence that came to his mind.

\- Erik, leave them be…

\- I will be right back, my dear.

He slowly and carefully approached them so he could hear what they were talking about. When he got close enough to hear them, but too far for them to see him, he started listening.

\- It is really beautiful music. – Mahtab said.

\- I told you. I am here every day to listen to it until Mama is working. She then comes and takes me home. It is good you came here, I am not alone.

\- And where is your Papa? Can't he be with you?

\- No. – Sophie shook her head. – I have no Papa. I never had.

\- What has happened to him?

\- He moved to the angels as Mama said. He moved up to Heaven when I was a baby.

\- I am sorry. – Mahtab patted the girl's shoulder. – I know how you must feel. I would be heartbroken if I lost my Papa. He is like God to me. – She admitted. – I want to be like him.

\- What is your Papa doing?

\- He does everything. – Mahtab smiled. – He can play any instrument he wants to and he sings beautifully, and he can draw and build machines and houses!

\- It sounds awesome. – Sophie sighed dreamily. – What is his name?

\- Erik. – Mahtab pronounced this one word with so much love that Erik nearly cried upon hearing it. Oh how much his daughter adores him…

\- My Papa's name was Jean – Luc. And my Mama's name is Yvette. I never had anyone but her.

\- Aren't you bored here alone?

\- Sometimes I am. – Sophie admitted.

\- Do you go to school?

\- No. – She said with much sadness in her voice.

\- Me neither. – Mahtab said. – But Papa taught me to read and write and count.

\- It is good for you but I can never learn how to write or read. – Sophie's voice sounded rather hopeless.

\- Why? – Mahtab asked with surprise. – Everyone learns to write.

\- I can't see the letters. – Sophie said. – I don't know what they look like.

Erik gasped in horror upon hearing the tiny girl's confession. So that's why she isn't bothered by Mahtab's missing lips and sunken eyes- she can't see the child's unusual look. Sophie is blind. That's why she can't go to school with other kids- she is disabled, just like Mahtab. Oh dear… He did not want to bother the girls. He had heard enough. He knew that Sophie won't hurt Mahtab.

When he briefly told Christine about the news, he saw that his wife's heart broke by hearing it. She lowered her head and muttered "The poor sweet thing" in front of her. Erik, even though he felt sorry for the small thing, he felt a bit of relief about Mahtab and her, this way she will be able to be friends with Mahtab hopefully. No repulsed or scared looks towards his daughter, as the girl can't see the difference. Mahtab is just a normal child to her. It is an incredibly sad thing that the only way his daughter can make a friend is if the other child is physically handicapped as well, but at least she will have ONE friend. He will have to explain her how to treat and help a blind person. This will be a talk between them.

\- How do you know that?

\- How do I know what? - Erik asked back with confusion.

\- How to treat a blind person.

\- Oh, did I think out loud again? – He laughed.

\- Yes. I mean, I know you have to guide a blind person, but I am not exactly sure how and what they need help with. Did you have a friend who was blind too?

\- No. – He shook his head. – I never had any other friend than the Daroga. Well… I know it from experience.

\- But you… only have glasses… God, did your eyesight get worse? – She leaned closer, trying to examine Erik's eyes closer, it being a hard thing to do so, as they were hard to see at daylight.

\- Don't be silly, Christine, how could I drive if I was blind? Not now. – He added. – Once in my youth, I had a nasty eye infection that caused me to see nothing but blur and some outlines or shapes. I was terrified my eyesight was gone forever, but it finally got better in some weeks. Those weeks were like Hell, and I learned how to live if you see nothing but light and shadows.

\- Poor Erik.

\- Don't feel sorry for me years after. – He laughed shortly.

\- You have been through so many things. And I don't even know half of it.

\- I think it is better this way. – Erik stated. – If you did, you would cry all day.

In a few minutes, they had to face that Mahtab was guiding Sophie towards them, just as she actually KNEW about how to treat Sophie. They were surprised to see that she wasn't rushing as she would otherwise do, and she carefully hugged her new friend's arm.

\- God… does she know…? – Christine looked at Erik with disbelief.

How can such a small child know about the proper way to take care of a disabled or ill person? Christine just remembered back about how gentle Mahtab was with Erik after the rheumatic fever. She was a toddler and yet she still understood that Papa wasn't feeling well. Can it be that the child somehow senses other people's problems?

\- Mama, Papa, Noel, I introduce Sophie. She is my best friend. – She showed her around proudly.

\- I am so glad to meet you, Sophie. – Christine did not know whether to shake the girl's hand or not, but the little one took a few steps closer to her, so she kindly stroke her shoulder. – I am Christine, Mahtab's mother.

\- I bid you a good day, child. – Erik knelt down to the girl, but did not touch her, being afraid his cold touch would freak her out. – I am Erik.

\- Monsieur… - Sophie gasped then smiled warmly at his direction. – You sound so nicely.

\- Thank you. – Erik turned away a bit, clearing his throat. – You may call me Erik. – He added nervously.

\- Mahtab said you can play music. – She started a bit hesitantly. – Would you… please…? – She turned her head away in embarrassment, as she was afraid she was going to be slapped. Erik felt sorry for the poor little girl as she reminded him of younger himself. He was afraid to ask people anything too.

If it was anyone else he did not know, he would have said no to that request, but he had no heart to deny it from this child. And deep in his soul he was thankful to Sophie that she did not pull away from Mahtab and wanted to spend time with her. He, for these reasons, agreed to play.

\- I have a harmonica with me right now, in my pocket. Do you have any request? – He asked kindly.

\- I don't know too much music. – She admitted. – Please play something, I will be happy.

\- Papa, please play Turkish March by Mozart!

\- All right. – Erik took the harmonica out of his pocket and started playing the sonata movement that was challenging enough on piano as well, let alone on a harmonica. But he nailed it perfectly.

The children were clapping happily as Erik finished playing and Sophie stated she haven't heard more beautiful music before. The Persian, Raoul and Flo returned from their wanderings as well, and arrived to the small group when Erik was playing Eine Kleine Nachtmusik for the audience. After the applause from each sides, they could hear a soft female voice from the left:

\- Sophie dear, don't bother the people, please. Come here.

As they turned to the voice's direction, they noticed a short, red haired pale woman standing not far from them.

\- I am coming, Mama. – Sophie nodded obediently and walked to the voice without any help. Mahtab wanted to guide her there, but Erik caught her hand and showed her to wait. Sophie walked to her mother and caught the edge of her skirt, ready to leave. – I have to go. Bye. – She added, almost crying.

\- I have to apologize. – The woman said quietly. – She is… a bit too much excited when others come here.

\- Madame. – Erik walked closer, holding Mahtab's hand. – The child did not bother us at all. She made friends with my daughter… - He gestured towards Mahtab and hoped the woman won't look for too long time.

\- Friends? – She asked with astonishment.

\- Yes. – Erik nodded. – If you would… allow Sophie to play with my girl… it would be…

\- Oh if someone wanted my Sophie to play with them…

\- We do like her company. – Christine smiled. – Please don't worry about her bothering us. She doesn't.

Silence came. The woman obviously noticed Mahtab's deformity, but she did not scream. She knelt down to the child and examined her a bit, with a mixture of understanding and pity in her eyes.

\- Do you like Sophie? – She asked finally.

\- I do, a lot. – Mahtab nodded, and hugged Sophie to prove her words.

\- Mama please allow me to play with her. – Sophie begged.

\- But of course. – The woman's eyes filled up with tears and she smiled at the same time. – Thank you. – She added softly. She pushed the girl gently, and smiled. – Go to play, dear.

As the mother looked at the children playing in the sand, she walked closer to the group and hesitantly started talking.

\- I thank you for… not minding my daughter.

\- I thank you the same. – Erik nodded seriously.

\- My name is Yvette Berger. – She introduced herself.

\- Erik Spöke. And this is my wife, Christine, and our children: Mahtab, Florian and Noel. And here are my friends. – He gestured towards Raoul and the Persian.

\- Mohammed- Ismael Khan, at your service, Madame. – The Persian bowed.

\- And my name is… Raoul de Chagny, Madame. And I am very pleased to meet you. – Raoul gently took Yvette's hand and kissed it quickly, but modestly.

\- I am pleased to meet you as well, Monsieur. – She gave a faint smile while wondered about the weird but kind bunch of people. Here is a very skinny, kind of old, but otherwise kind of handsome man, a beautiful young lady with two young boys and a daughter with some kind of facial deformity, a black man and a handsome young man with a prosthetic hand. Other people would call them a weird group, but clearly they are very kind and understanding about her child's problem and don't send her away, as others do. No other kids want to play with Sophie, as there is "nothing interesting" to play with her. She can't see the ball for ballgames, she can't play tag or hide and seek… she is "boring" and "weird" to other children. To disguise her being touched, she started talking to Raoul about neutral things, like the weather or the children… and he gave so polite yet sad answers. He always wanted a child or two. They both agreed that Christine's boys are so sweet.

\- Sophie! – Yvette called out when the sky started turning darker by nightfall. – Come dear, we are going home.

\- We are playing, Mama! – She said. – Can't I stay a bit later?

\- Aren't you hungry already? – The mother smiled.

\- I think not. – She responded, even though it wasn't true.

\- Don't worry, Sophie. – Erik smiled. – We are staying here for quite a long time, you will be able to play with Mahtab tomorrow as well, but we have to go too. The boys are sleepy and Mahtab should be in bed soon. Say good night, Mahtab.

\- Good night Sophie. See you tomorrow.

\- You too. – Sophie smiled and walked to her mother.

\- May I accompany you home? – Raoul offered hesitantly. – It is… getting late and…

\- Why not? – Yvette asked softly, mostly from herself. – I accept your offer. – She blushed upon the agreement, but she somehow enjoyed the man's company. Being an outsider with a disabled child, and lost her husband six years ago, she didn't have much company, and was happy for the slightest of kindness she received.

Mahtab was over excited by the fact she met a friend. Only one thing gloomed her vacation: having to wear girl's clothing. She was too much used to wearing pants and shirt by now and she felt uncomfortable. And she wanted to prove she was a boy to everyone. She nagged Christine about her not having any normal clothes with them. Christine was just smiling and stating that she will get used to it anyway. When bedtime came and Erik told a story to Mahtab and Flo, and finally he wanted to stand up from Mahtab's bedside to join Christine and Noel in the other room, the child stated she needed to use the bathroom.

\- Mahtab, I already asked you to do your business before going to bed. – Erik sighed, pulling the chamber pot out from under the bed.

\- I will do it standing up. – Mahtab stated proudly.

\- No, you won't. – Erik shook his head, and pressed the girl's shoulders to force her into a sitting position.

\- But Flo can do it standing up. Why I am not allowed to?

\- Because you are a girl.

\- I am not! – She argued.

\- Yes you are.

\- I am like you, Mama said so too.

\- In a way. – Erik nodded. – But not every way.

\- Papa, why am I a girl? Make me a boy. Please, I want to be a boy. I don't like to pee sitting down and wear those clothes Mama forces on me. And I wish to be a brave and smar man like you when I grow up.

\- You were born a girl, dear. It is nothing I can change.

\- The Angel of Music and God can make both boys and girls and you said you get a child if you ask for them. Did you ask for me to be a girl?

\- I just asked for a child. God decides if you will be a boy or a girl. If you are lucky enough, you get what you hope.

\- Did you want a boy or girl more?

\- It doesn't matter to me, Mahtab. I love you all, no matter your genders. I would love Flo as well if he turn to be your sister by chance.

\- If it is all the same to you, can we change gender with Flo?

\- Mahtab it doesn't work that way.

\- Papa…?

\- Mahtab are you finished? It is late.

\- I want to ask something.

\- But then you sleep.

\- I will. But did you ask God for me to be like you regarding my face? So you won't be alone with it?

Erik looked at the child with a bit of pain in his look, but he had to compose himself enough to answer properly. He can't hurt a child by telling the awful truth. Mahtab should never find out his first intent was to suffocate her to death after he saw her face. He forced a smile on his face and looked her in the eye.

\- No. I guess I was just lucky enough to get you, Mahtab.

\- Then why do you call yourself a monster sometimes? Am I a monster too, as they called me?

\- No. – Erik shook his head firmly.- People used to call me a monster dear, and I got stuck with the idea. But you must never ever think yourself a monster.

\- If you could ask God to give you another child instead of me who looks like Flo and Noel, would you?

\- Not for all treasures of the world I would trade you. – Erik was surprised to find out how much he means every word of it, despite Mahtab's appearance. Not to give away his state of mind, he decided to get back into the strict father's role and asked: - Mahtab, are you finished finally?

\- Well…- She shrugged. – I guess I don't have to go any more.

\- Mahtab… - He sighed, shaking his head, then pointing at the bed.

\- Good night Papa. – She smiled. – I love you.

\- Good night, Mahtab. – He kissed her forehead. – I love you too. No matter what sweetie. And always will.

When Erik arrived to the next room to Christine, Noel was already sleeping peacefully. Christine was stroking his still pale- ish face with her thumb, softly humming a French lullaby to him. Erik stood behind her, and gently stroke the child's light blonde, nearly white hair. Mahtab had a much darker blonde hair, Flo was dark – haired as Erik, but Noel inherited the exact Nordic genetics. Pale skin, light blonde hair and light blue eyes. As they were looking at their small boy, Christine turned to Erik.

\- Was it hard to put them to bed?

\- Not really. Mahtab wanted some talk.

\- About what?

\- About her being utterly displeased by the fact she was born a female and can't relieve herself as males do. But I guess the bigger problem is just the fact you don't let her wear her pants.

\- Aren't you worried about this, Erik?

\- To be honest, I worry about everything that is about her. But honestly, what can I do about it? I try my best to be a good father to a child who isn't ordinary at all. I hope things will be easier with Flo and Noel.

\- I am worried about Noel as well. – Christine sat down on the edge of the bed next to Erik who was occupied by removing his shoes.

\- Why? – Erik sighed, laying across the bed, not really wishing to move the proper way. He got tired.

\- He doesn't want to talk.

\- He is not even two. – Erik said. – By the time he gets three years old and he STILL does not talk, you may start to worry.

\- But I am happy about Mahtab finding a friend. And not even the little girl's mother was hostile towards Mahtab, and yet she saw her face. See, Erik, I told you that you were overprotective.

\- Christine. – Erik sighed deeply. – She wasn't hostile only because she understands what we are going through with a disabled child. She is the same way.

\- At least people don't beat blind people up.

\- But they rob them. – Erik stated ominously.

\- Oh Erik, no….

\- Yes they do, my dear, I know it.

\- No one can be so mean to rob a blind person.

\- It must be good up there in the clouds, Christine, as you keep staying there all the time.

\- Have you ever seen such a thing?

\- Yes. – He stated simply. – A vagabond did not only steal the money from in front of a blind beggar on the street of Paris, but the whole damned hat as well.

\- God! And what happened?

\- You know I don't really care about other people, but that was too much of a disgusting thing. Even I couldn't stomach that act, so I just tried to explain him it wasn't the right way to behave. He did not listen, so he accidentally ran into my bony fist with his potato nose.

\- Did you start a fight for a stranger? – She smiled.

\- Not fight, it was just a beating up until the point he hit back. And not for a stranger, but for a poor helpless creature.

\- Did you get injured?

\- No. – He shook his head. -His nasal bone broke.

\- My hero… - Christine caressed Erik's skull- face and lay down next to him, not even minding that she does not have a pillow under her head. They were laying near the footboard on the bed, across it, Erik's feet touching the floor. Christine curled up next to him in fetal position and put her head on his chest. Erik hugged her shoulder and let out a content sigh. He did not even protest about being called a hero, even though he did not consider himself that the least.

It was such a peaceful night with love in their heart for each other. Maybe this vacation idea isn't even that far-fetched as he first imagined?

Erik finally found out how to spend time. He just realized he could go fishing and catch dinner for themselves if he was lucky enough- and well, it was a good excuse for sitting on a cliff alone, not being bothered by anyone. " _You will scare the fish away if you come with me and talk all the time._ " He needed some time alone, to think and relax. Finally he found out how to relax, which was a hard thing to do with 3 children around him. As he was fishing, finally there were no children constantly nagging him to play, sing, and entertain them or to feed them or take care of their needs in any way. Of course, he adored his children, but constantly playing with them was slowly wearing him out, without him even noticing it. He needed to recharge. How pleasant it was to sit all alone, and yet still knowing he had a loving family and did not have to return to an empty home, alone as a stray dog. Christine understood that Erik wanted some time to himself without the children, and she was happy Erik found a hobby for himself, and she did not spend too much time with her children in Paris, while working at the Opera. It was a nice change to be with them all day. She hardly ever seen Mahtab since the girl met Sophie, and Raoul was talking to Mme Berger when she was around, so Christine was playing with the boys and the Daroga was just contentedly smiling at all of the happenings and throwing sticks for Shadow to fetch. A so much idyllic vacation for everyone.

As Erik was trying to get something for dinner, but he wouldn't mind if he gets nothing at all, looking to the side, he realized he wasn't already alone. A white- orange male cat was sitting next to him, sometimes licking its mouth. Erik smiled at it, as he liked cats. He was more of a cat person than a dog person, even in his childhood, he thought himself resembling a cat in personality.

\- Bonjour, Monsieur. – He greeted the newcomer and nodded. – Did you have better luck than Erik?

The feline just licked its mouth again, glancing at the one small fish Erik succeeded in catching since morning.

\- Do you wish to have it? – He asked. – Well, it wouldn't be enough for so many people anyway. Here, Monsieur, have a nice meal.

He threw the fish to the cat, who started eating it. Erik smiled as he was watching it. What a nice little animal. He, after a few minutes, caressed the animal, as he walked closer to Erik. The cat seemed to be very friendly, he purred as the man stroke his fur.

\- Do you have a home? – Erik asked with a sudden compassion. – Do you wish to have one? You know, I love cats… I always have loved them. If you chose to stay with me, I give you a home.

It was unsure if the cat understood Erik's offer or not, but one thing was sure: he returned with a bearable amount of prey and a feline companion in the evening. Christine melted when she saw the cat, and asked Erik if they may keep him.

\- I want him. – Erik stated.

\- That is awesome, and did you find a name for him yet?

\- I kept calling him Monsieur LeChat the whole day. I guess he likes it as he did not protest.

\- Oh Erik, he should have a given name as well, no? This is so distant.

\- You may chose him a name if you wish to, I am going to address him as Monsieur LeChat in the future as well.

\- We name him Jean- Pierre. – Flo chirped.

\- What a nice idea! – Christine clapped as the cat slowly sniffed the young boy, who instantly started petting him.

Jean- Pierre LeChat became a family member as well in the Spöke family. Erik was talking to him like he was a nobleman, calling him "Monsieur LeChat" and addressing him as "vous", which was the formal way of calling someone in French. The dog was addressed as "tu" as one would call a child or someone less of an authority, but the cat had to be called "vous".

\- A lion is the king of animals. – Erik explained when Christine asked him about this.

\- But it is a cat, Erik.

\- A cat is a lion's nephew. – Erik laughed shortly. – You have to respect such a noble creature.

The children loved the new family member and they were careful with him. Erik taught them not to hit or pull its tail, and how to treat the cat gently, and if they do so, it will be nice to them as well. Shadow and Monsieur LeChat became friends, unlike most cats and dogs, and they often spotted the cat sleeping on Shadow's back, curled up.

It seemed to be a pleasant vacation for everyone – finding new friends and having well deserved rest.


	41. Chapter 41

Erik originally only wanted to stay for 2 weeks in Perros, but as his family, and to tell the truth, even he had such a great time that he agreed to stay for one more week in the end, after Christine and Mahtab were asking him to stay for longer. He had nothing urgent to do at home anyway and was just happy to finally do nothing but enjoy his free time with family. One more week means really nothing.

Mahtab never ever had so much fun in her life before, with a child of her own age. She adored her brothers, but they were much younger than her and it was a refreshing thing to speak with someone who was closer to her in age. She loved Sophie and Sophie loved her as well. They were walking together, Mahtab taught Sophie to sing more folk songs than she already knew, they were playing just the two of them, or along with the boys. Mahtab taught Sophie to draw in the stone and write out more simple words by guiding he hand along. They enjoyed playing out small scenarios they made up together, just like they were in an opera. The boys were helping as well, they had some mini theatre. Mahtab loved roleplaying with Flo, as they often caught Christine practicing at home for the night's performance with Erik, so they knew a lot of operas by heart even without being at the Opera House too much. Noel couldn't talk yet, but he adored to run around the others, listen to their singing and giggle without an end. He often played the role of someone's child, mostly Mahtab and Sophie played the hero and the Heroine, and Flo got parts of the helpful friend to the hero, like Papageno in Magic Flute.

Flo was turning to be a small gentleman, as he was nearly 4 years old at that time. Up until this time, he seemed to be a shy, much less talkative boy who would hide behind Christine's skirt if he could, but finally he started to turn more socially brave. Strolls with his mother and Noel on the streets made his self-esteem grow as people would call him "a cute boy" and "oh so sweet" often. He started to get along better with people, and collected his braveness to tell someone he liked them. Suddenly, he realized he wasn't Mama's little baby anymore, but a boy, and he started to imitate patterns he saw from his farther. One morning, as he walked to Sophie, he bowed in front of her, took her hand gently as he saw it from both his father and Raoul and said:

\- Hello there, Mademoiselle, you are beautiful.

\- Thank you. – Sophie laughed and hugged the small boy who reached up to her shoulder height.

\- I love you. Will you marry me? – He went on.

\- What a little Don Juan. – Christine burst out in a laughter upon hearing her son's first (but not last) proposal.

She told it to Erik later, who let out a small laugh and stated that he had no idea who his son took after.

\- But I think – he added – in ten years the skirts in Paris won't be able to flee from this young man. – He chuckled.

Flo wasn't the only one enchanted by a woman. Raoul de Chagny also started to act strange. He would look at the children happily playing on the shore and one could see so much longing in his eyes. He will never be able to have so much happiness to have a child. Even Erik, the physically and mentally imperfect man has three children, and seems to be a good enough father. He wanted children so much, always, even in his youth he was thinking about having a huge family. Two or three children, or even more. Sophie was such a cute little girl and Raoul felt sorry for her and her mother. A blind girl who only had something to do when others, who are able to accept her, are in Perros. She is alone most of the time, while her mother works from morning to the evening to make a living. Yvette Berger is such a sweet lady. Some sadness is always around her, but she is strong, independent and caring. He met her and since that, he can't get cleared her and the child out of his mind. He couldn't help, but think of them all the time and get every possible occasion to talk to them. They both deserved a better life than they had.

It was only two weeks they spent together so far, but he was sure Mme Berger liked him in a way. She wasn't as beautiful as Christine, but she was nice and clever enough. They spent hours walking in the sunset, and talking about their lives, their likes and priorities. Yvette seemed to accept his courting and clear signs he was sending her way, and her face reflected happiness and thankfulness upon receiving such words from a gentleman. And he was so very kind to Sophie. When he accompanied them home, he would talk so nicely to the small girl, and they were getting along very well, even though Sophie was otherwise afraid of strangers. Raoul was like they knew each other forever. But these facts wouldn't be enough to start a change. Something else has happened that made Raoul think things through. One evening after they parted, Sophie accidentally called him "Papa." She gasped after saying it and bashfully asked for his forgiveness, but this made Raoul sure that he was feeling the right way, and he, it goes as it goes, should make a move.

Yet he was too coward to do so. It is too early yet, and even though he felt pity about the circumstances mother and child were in, he did not find it right to go against social habits that vehemently. And he wasn't even sure Yvette would really want him around. Accepting compliments and kindness for her child is one thing – marriage is a way other thing. He shall return here though, from time to time, and wait and see what happens.

But Raoul wasn't the only one who was thinking about Yvette and Sophie. Both Christine and Erik felt sorry for them, and Christine suddenly had an idea about how to help the poor woman who worked as a washerwoman for starvation wages and had to raise a blind child all alone after her husband's too early and unexpected death. The man did not have any wealth to pass on Yvette and Sophie, he passed away in an accident in a young age, not much after Sophie's birth. There was no way out for them from this situation, only Christine's plan… She just did not know how to tell it to Erik. She was sure Erik was too stubborn and proud to accept help… But she should try. When Erik was sitting by a cliff and looking at the water, she joined him and sat beside him.

\- Well… in two days we are going back to Paris.

\- We do. – He nodded. – Christine please don't try to ask for one more week. – He added. – You have to get ready for season starting.

\- I know. We will be back to work… both of us, right?

\- Mhm. – Erik sighed. – I guess Erik will have to clean the whole house from the attic to the cellar as it must be all filthy.

\- Well…

\- And take care of 3 children.

\- Isn't it a bit too much for you?

\- Why do you ask? I have to do it anyway.

\- It is, right?

\- I agree that sometimes it wears me out a bit.

\- Erik, don't you think we could use a maid?

\- We have talked about this before as well, but there is no human being on Earth who wouldn't scream in horror upon meeting Mahtab. And I seldom wear the mask at home either.

\- What if we ask someone who clearly doesn't mind her face?

\- There is only the Daroga and… oh…

\- Yvette Berger. She could move in with us and have Sophie with her.

\- She wouldn't accept such an offer.

\- How do you know if we don't even try? Please admit it would take much off of your shoulder.

\- True. And… Mahtab would have a friend with her. Not only when we visit Perros.

\- They would be like siblings.

\- I know. But… a stranger woman in my home?

\- She is a very kind lady, Erik. And she would deserve better. We have a guestroom we don't even use. The only time we used it was the time when the Daroga lived with us for a time. Erik our home is big enough. She won't bother too much, yet she would help a lot.

\- We could finally… leave the children to her and go to the Opera! Or go out for a dinner, just the two of us! Just as the kids didn't even exist! – Erik exclaimed happily.

\- Oh Erik… - She laughed. – Then? What is your answer?

\- I will ask her about it, but leave it at me, please. – He nodded.

Erik wanted to laugh actually, at how they think alike with Christine, without even knowing it. He was thinking of the same, just did not know how to come up with it to his wife as he was uncomfortable about admitting he needed help, and wanted to help those two miserable girls.

Raoul was utterly surprised when Erik stated he would like to have a few words with Mme Berger that evening. He did not want to listen directly, but he was curious of what on Earth could Erik want of that lady.

\- Madame. – Erik started on a serious tone. – Don't you think that your child would deserve more than just existing here until you are away to work? S he is a precious child, she would deserve a life like everyone else.

\- I know what you mean, Monsieur. – Yvette answered sadly. – But I cannot help it.

\- I know. – Erik stated. – I did not blame you for it, as I know you have hardly any other choice. But still… did you know that Sophie could learn to write and read as well? Just like anyone else.

\- But she is blind, Monsieur. How could she?

\- There is a kind of writing she could learn and she could read books with that writing. In Paris, there is a school that teaches blind children to that.

\- Paris is so far away, Monsieur, and I don't want my child to be taken away from me. At least I can be with her in the evenings when I arrive home. And besides, a school like that… must cost so much that I can't afford.

\- All you say is true, but I would like to offer help, and ask for help the same time.

\- How? – Yvette looked at the man with a sudden interest.

\- If you are willing to move to Paris, your child will be taken care of, along with you. You two shall never suffer anymore. She will be taught and raised with my own children.

\- And what should I help in return? This is so much help I can't possibly repay, I am afraid. I am a simple woman, Monsieur. I … can't give much.

\- I ask for only simple things. Just help me and my wife to take care of the house.

\- Only that? – She gasped. – Monsieur, it is too little in return of your offer.

\- Well, I don't think it is. I have a huge house to clean in Paris. My wife works as an opera singer and I am alone with the children when she is performing, or at rehearsals. I have no maid because of… well you know how my daughter is.

\- I do. – She nodded and wiped some tears out of the corner of her eye that Erik refused to notice.

\- So, you see, I could use some help with the house and children.

\- It is… no problem, Monsieur. Maybe I am… I am… not right to accept your offer, may God forgive me… but any other way, my child would live her life here and die as an unwanted creature.

\- She is much wanted in my family. Mahtab loves her and I know she would be heartbroken if we left Perros without Sophie.

\- And my Sophie's heart will break in a million pieces by losing her best friend. I will be a good maid to you, Monsieur. I can clean, wash and cook all you want, and I take care of the children…

\- Thank you. But I would have one more condition.

\- What that may be?

\- Don1t call me Monsieur, it makes me feel uncomfortable. I don1t want to play the role of an authority to you, so I would much appreciate if you called me by my first name, Erik. And my wife Christine.

\- Oh… thank you so much. And all of you please call me just Yvette. I don1t remember hearing my name for a long time. I am always called as the "mother of the blind girl".

\- As you wish, Yvette. – Erik smiled. – Then I would be happy if you could come with us to Paris when we leave Perros- Guirec on Saturday morning. Is it good for you?

\- It is. I don't have much things to pack and not much work to cancel. To tell the truth, I have nothing.

Yvette knew it was a life-changing decision, and she maybe should think things through, but honestly she did not really have much to lose. She thought, things could only get better in Paris than her current state as they were only vegetating, hardly getting enough money to make ends meet. The child always had something to eat, but there were times the mother had to go to bed without supper, as Sophie got the last slice of bread. People were calling them a weird couple, and they met strange glances and people were gossiping about them. What should make her stay, really?

Raoul was happy to hear about these lucky turn of events. He was sure they will be able to socialize in Erik's home as he was often invited, and within time, he could slowly get along with Yvette. She shouldn't be a maid in all her life.

Erik's heart got heavy with pain when he saw the house Yvette and Sophie walked out of in the morning of the departure with only one bigger suitcase. They did not have much things, really. The house itself was old, small and ravaged. He sighed, upon seeing the poverty of a single mother who works hard, and her disabled child. Mahtab opened her mouth to make a remark, but Erik silenced her with a strict look in his eyes and whispered "Stay silent", throwing his voice in Mahtab's left ear. He jumped off from the car seat to help Yvette with the suitcase and help them up in the car. Sophie was sitting next to Mahtab and was petting the plush seat cover.

\- It is so soft, I have never felt such a thing. – She smiled.

\- Monsieur, we would have easily travelled by train and… - Yvette apologized.

\- Yvette, I have already asked you to call me simply Erik. And of course, you all come by our car. It is much more comfortable.

\- Thank you. – Yvette whispered thankfully.

Noel sat on Christine1s lap and enjoyed the car ride very much. He seemed to love it. He clapped many times and tried to whistle joyfully.

\- Finally we go home and I can wear pants again. – Mahtab sighed softly to herself, while being happy about her friend is spending time with them. She did not know how she would have handled parting. She thought of Cadence- and she hoped they will never ever part with Sophie, unlike her first friend in her life.

When they arrived to Erik's home finally, Yvette gasped with surprise upon seeing the beautiful building. At first she did not even think it was the family's home, but some nobleman's, but when Erik stopped the engine and they all took off of their seats, she realized they arrived. She couldn't believe this would be her home from now. They all were so kind to her and Sophie, Mahtab and Flo were encouraging the small girl to get in and see their toys.

\- Sophie, not yet…! – Yvette said with worry. – You have to ask Erik if you are allowed to play with the toys…

\- But of course she may, Yvette. – Christine smiled. – Sophie may play with all the toys and may enter all the rooms in the house.

\- Really? But… I am a maid and she…

\- You are a member of the family. You are a nanny to my children, and you may come and go as you please. All of you may touch anything. – Erik explained.

\- Even the piano? – Sophie asked softly, but hunched as she was expecting a slap.

\- If you wish. – Erik patted her shoulder carefully. – Yes, of course.

\- I have never touched a piano before. – She admitted.

Upon guiding Sophie through the house so she will learn where furniture were placed, so she won1t bump into or fall through anything, Yvette was fascinated to see what the home looked like in the inside as well. A huge hall with stairs, arches, columns, and same with the kitchen, and dining room as well. The dining room itself was bigger than the room they used to share with Sophie in their home. The children's room where Sophie was guided in, to have fun with the other children, was huge and indescribably beautiful with a wooden bed that looked like a locomotive, a smaller single bed and many – many expensive toys. Even a whole train set, toy soldiers, bears, ragdolls, dollhouse (Mahtab never used it, but Flo surprisingly liked it), and a rocking horse. Sophie only had a doll her mother made for her, she slept with it since her infancy. But these much toys she could touch and feel, made her so excited. As she couldn't see them, she just touched them and tried to guess what they might be. Mahtab had to face the truth that Sophie did not know how did a train look like – of course- she have never seen one.

\- I show you your room. – Erik offered, and guided Yvette to the guest room. – Let them play. – He added with a smile.

The biggest surprise only came now. Yvette expected a simple room for herself, but the guest room was just as beautiful as the other part of the house. She couldn't find words upon stepping in. Even bigger surprise was that they got an own bathroom for themselves with running hot and cold water and modern water closet. They don't ever have to use chamber pots or basins. This is plain luxury. This house is a mansion, a castle, a… she did not even know how to call it.

\- I hope it meets your liking. -Erik said softly, while Yvette was speechlessly walking around, not believing her eyes.

\- It is… actually too good for us. – She stuttered. – What did I do to deserve this all great happenings?

\- Don't belittle yourself. – Erik shrugged.

\- But it is something I sure can not repay.

\- You already do, with your kindness towards us. And as I promised, as Fall comes, I am going to register Sophie in the School of Blind, so she will be able to educate herself.

\- Erik… may I ask… if you are a nobleman?

\- No. – He answered simply. – I am from a simple family. I was born in a small village in Normandy. My father was a contractor. I admit I live in luxurious circumstances, but I have my wants and needs and I refuse to content myself with any less. I have built and furnished this house by my own work, and I want to spoil my family and myself. That is all.

But the beautiful dream did not end here. Erik opened the dresser and showed the many breathtaking girl clothes there. Dresses, coats, shoes, boots, hats, aprons, blouses, skirts of the latest fashion. They were for a young child, about the age of Sophie.

\- These are Mahtab's clothes, but as you might have gotten informed about it, my daughter refuses to wear them. She prefers male clothing. I guess she is just like that. Well, I would be happy if someone wore them, so they would not get wasted. Christine always orders a full wardrobe for Mahtab for every season, hoping she will once wear them, and they just get stored here, as she only wears her boy clothes. Please don't ask about anything, if Sophie wants to wear any of them, I will only be happy. Don't ask for permission. Dress her in whichever you chose.

Not only Sophie got new clothes, but Yvette as well. Christine collected all her dresses she did not like to wear for some reason and carried them to the guest room for Yvette. They were flawless, never really worn, and Yvette did not know what to say.

\- Thank you, but… don't you think these are too beautiful for me to wear? I mean… only for cleaning.

\- But of course, not. – Christine smiled. – Look, Erik spoils me to no end. I have as many clothes for myself to wear as I want, and you are really beautiful and should wear much nicer clothes than the ones you own.

\- Thank you! I will take good care of them… - she replied with tearful eyes. – I will only wear them on Sundays…

\- But of course, you won't. – Christine corrected her kindly. – They are for every day. I would like to see you in them. I can't wait for you to try on one of them.

Yvette did not recognize herself in the mirror. She looked like a noble woman and Sophie was adorable in a sweet pink dress she was dressed in. She looked like she was really a part of this wealthy family now and Yvette felt in Heaven.

She hoped this dream will never end.

\- I don't recognize you, Erik. – The Daroga stated two weeks after Yvette and Sophie moved in, during a chess play. – Why do you care so much for people you did not even know before? It is nothing like something you would do.

\- Yes, as Erik is a monster and he would not do anything good. – He frowned.

\- No, I did not say that. You are quibbling my words. I only stated you did not seem to care for other people and now you give home to two.

\- Sophie is Mahtab's friend. This was the only way she will have a friend not for only 3 weeks a year.

\- So did you do it only for your child?

\- Yes. – Erik nodded. – You know, Daroga, I am thinking of strange things lately.

\- What things?

\- Things I thought I have finally forgotten. – Erik sighed. – My childhood. I am thinking of my poor unhappy mother. As I met Yvette and Sophie, I started wondering what would have happened if there was someone to understand my mother and comfort her. Would she still be so lonely and hate me so much for ruining her life, making her lonely? Do you know when was the only time I felt she liked me in a way?

\- When?

\- When I was seriously ill. Then she would sit beside me, on the side of the bed and say "Don1t worry, nothing is wrong, you will get healed." That was the only time she would say things like these. So… I want Mahtab to feel that she is loved. Not only when she is sick. Anytime. And I am thankful if someone else loves her other than Christine and I. And if there is one person who likes Mahtab, I have to thank her, and help the best I can.

\- I understand you in a way now. – The Daroga nodded.

\- And besides, I really do need help with this house. It got too much for me. I did not think when I built it that I will be alone to keep it clean. Erik did not think what will happen in ten years. Erik is in pain sometimes.

\- Are you ill again?

\- No. – He shook his head. – But I am not young. I am sure you have pain here or there as well sometimes.

\- Well… yes, a bit. – He laughed.

\- See, my friend? We grew old.

\- Only you. I am not even sixty yet, unlike you.

\- You will be sixty in two years, you Persian cop. And then, I will laugh at you. I will laugh right in your face on your Birthday.

Erik was really thinking about the past a lot lately. His mother's figure flashed up right in front of his eyes many times and he had mixed bittersweet feelings in his heart about her. Maybe he should really stop dwelling on the past. He should close it finally, leaving things and memories behind. And he knew how.

It was late September of 1892.

Sophie was attending the School of the Blind for nearly a month already, and she loved it more and more, day by day. She started to learn many things, for example, how to eat with knife and fork, and find things on her plate, even though she was blind.

\- Look, Mahtab! – She explained. – Here is your plate. It is shaped round, right?

\- Right. – Mahtab nodded eagerly to learn something new.

\- So try to imagine it as a clock face. – Sophie said. – The top is 12, the down side is 6, and thre left side is 9, the right side is 3. If they say thesauce is at 9 o clock, you will find it with eyes closed! Finally I don't have to eat anything with hand and spoon! I am a big girl!

\- You are right! – Mahtab exclaimed happily. – I have never thought it this way.

The two girls suddenly caught their heads up to Christine's voice in the Hall. She sounded clueless and worried.

\- But why do you have to go? Where are you going?

\- I have some business to take care of. – Erik replied. – I had been procrastinating it for too long.

\- But tell me at least where are you going? Do you leave us here alone? How long?

\- Christine, you have Yvette and all the children with you. Erik returns shortly.

\- Where are you going, I ask once again?

\- To visit someone.

\- Whom?

\- My mother. – Erik replied. – I have to talk to her finally after so many years.

Without another word, Erik kissed Christine's lips, caressed her face and turned around to leave.

\- Take care of yourselves. – He added, before leaving the house and getting into his car.


	42. Chapter 42

That massive stone building towered above the trees of the forest of that small village. Even though he did not visit the place for the last 20 years or so, but this place burned into his memory forever. He would have walked there even blindfolded. That place was horrible and no one would have walked there by their own free will, only if the one kept there was so dear to the heart that no matter what, they NEED to be visited. The heart yearns to see them, under any circumstances, even at this unworthy environment. But it wasn't the case at that moment. Some deep wounds were ought to be healed, or at least bandaged on his heart, and he finally wanted to make peace with his past, and that person – forever.

He just hoped he did not take this journey for nothing. Visiting mother after 20 years sounded ridiculous and he wasn't even sure if she was still alive. Maybe not. She would be close to 80, if he is correct. She gave birth to him at the age of 19, which means she will turn 80 the next year, if she survived long enough. So, he visits his mother after 20 years. He hasn1t seen her after that night, when he literally dragged her in there and she just accused him of many-many things. Unfaithfulness, blasphemy, neediness, selfishness, thievery and who knows what else? She screamed at him and tried to claw him several times. It was for her own good, but she really did not understand that. Erik did not even know why he helped her if she was such an ungrateful woman. He helped her.

 _But what for?_

 _For the emotional and physical abuse? For not accepting him as a son because of her self-pity and depression? Because of her selfishness? For hatred, fear and disgust he had received? For emotional neglect?_

 _What did you give to me, mother? What? Not love and support, for sure. Maybe possibility to play music. Yes, that was something to be thankful for, definitely. But nothing else. You can be thankful that I took care of you, so you did not have to dies alone and unable to take care of yourself. Should I have actually let you commit it? Huh? You could be at least a bit of thankful that I arrived back in the village just in time to save your miserable life, so you did not have to drown in your own vomit, you useless creature. That is what you always knew how to do – pity yourself and make others pity you. Why did you want to die that night? What was that circus for? Did you still dwell on those 7-8 years you had to spend with me? Even when you were 60, you still were crying over the things happened another 40 years ago. And made me scarred for life with your treatment._

 _What do you know of being a parent? Yes, you had an ugly child. Seriously deformed. But I am a parent now as well, with a child like you had. I learned to love my child. It took me some time, but in the end I did learn to love her with all my heart and would do anything for Mahtab. Unlike you._

 _Shame on you._

 _Because of you, I turned to be like you. A miserable depressed nervous wreck, wallowing in self-pity. But I want to end this. I want to let go of my past finally._

 _That is why I am here now._

As he was deep in his thoughts while reaching the ominous building, he already could hear some noises he did not want to, really. Maniacal laughter and some painful screams. No wonder there is a bar in each and every window. No matter what a beautiful park this place has, to walk them in, nothing can cover the raw and bitter truth and the identity of this building:

 _A mental asylum._

Creatures who were shunned out of society are locked away among these walls. Lunatics, hysterical women, suicide attempt survivors, aggressive freaks, etc. He did not hate to enter this building only for the sake of his mother, but the fact that he felt he would belong here as well by the opinions of many people. If he wasn't careful enough, he would be locked away here as well, chained to the wall or tied to a bed.

When he entered the building with a guard after he told what he was there for, he was shocked to see that some patients were being pushed and hit back by a stick while they were trying to escape.

\- Back away, freaks! – He heard an annoyed male voice and some screams of pain. He swallowed and shuddered with fear.

\- Are you all right, Monsieur? – The guard turned back.

\- I am. – He nodded.

You all wouldn't be so kind to me if I wasn't wearing my human face. I would be a freak to you as well, and would kick me in an empty cellar room without a second thought.

\- So, is she still alive? – Erik asked, seeing that he was being guided inside as he told the purpose of his visit. He was trying not to look around too much, even though there were some inhabitants around them, playing with the hay on the ground, growling and walking on hands and knees, or laughing at literally nothing.

\- Yes, she is bed-ridden, so we keep her in the other wing.

\- How is she doing? – He inquired.

\- It depends on her mood. – The guard shrugged. – She is a bit of lively sometimes, She gets agitated too easily. If you see her lifting something up just jump out of the way…

\- I know that well, thank you.

Yes, Erik knew it more than anyone else. If mother throws something it is a wiser move to jump or lean away. Once he was nearly hit by a thousand page long lexicon on the head. Every damned wing was closed by bars. Erik felt himself in prison while being guided through them, and the bars were instantly closed behind his back. It was actually a worse place than a prison.

Finally they arrived to a side hallway that did not have a bar at the start, and they turned to the right. This place was much quieter than the other parts, but this did not calm Erik too much. This was even more terrifying than the cries at the other parts of the building. Their footsteps were echoing too loudly and unsettlingly.

They arrived at a door, and the guard opened it.

\- Here she is. Call for me if you need me.

\- Thank you. – Erik stepped in with his heart pounding in his ears. His hands were trembling so rapidly he could hardly shut the door.

The room contained a single bed and a chair only, the walls were white and the floor was gray tile. The old woman who lay on the bed was so unknown that he, if he did not hear it from the guard that it is her, would not have recognized her. While he was driving there and approaching the building, he was so determined and sure of what he would say, and he did not have any trouble expressing his displeasure any other time, but looking at that weak old skinny woman with long gray hair, and sunken eyes, he suddenly did not know what to say. They started to resemble in a way. She was pale, and resembled a dead person, to be honest. He should say something, damn.

\- Good afternoon. – He finally managed to pronounce a sentence.

Silence. The sunken eyes opened and were examining him with a strange look. She rose up a bit on her pillow and tried to figure out who on Earth did bother her afternoon slumber. She could not recognize this man. He was elegantly dressed and wore glasses, and she was quite sure she had never seen him in her life.

\- Who are you?

The voice was somewhat familiar, yet not that powerful and demanding as he remembered in his childhood. She was tall, beautiful and powerful in his memories. Now she was only a broken old thing. Of course, she doesn't recognize him. He is wearing the human mask, thank Heaven. Well, he has to speak to her, but how to introduce himself? Yes, he was called "Erik" in all his life, but not only by mother. That name would not mean anything to her, she did not even know he got that name by accident. She sure knows what name he received while baptismal. Would he tell that?

\- Bastien. – He answered. – Even though you never called me that.

It was true. Erik did not know if he had any name at all in his childhood, but when he emptied his mother's house after he took her here, he found his birth certificate, which contained the name "Bastien". Born on 29th February, 1832. Only by the birthdate he could be sure.

\- Bastien. – The woman echoed, and it could be noticed she knew who that was. – He travelled abroad. – She added. – I don't know when he will come back.

\- It is me. – Erik stepped closer.

\- It can't be you. He is dead or something. – She lowered her head and with trembling hands, she crossed her fingers in front of her chest as she was praying.

\- Mother. It is me. – Erik repeated. – I know you don't recognize my voice, but it is me. I would like to talk to you.

\- You may talk to me, but I am so old now. No one wants to talk to me.

\- I know. But… please tell me something. Is it true that I killed my father?

\- Father…? He was here on Sunday to celebrate the Mass.

\- No, I mean… what happened to your husband? – Erik could not decide if Geneviéve was deaf or disoriented.

\- Oh, Henri was a kind man. I was so young when I married him. We even had a child.

\- I know. – Erik sighed. – But how did he die? Did he get a heart attack when he saw the child?

\- Oh… I can't remember. What kind of child?

\- Yours.

\- I treated him unkind and he left me. – She stated, not even paying attention any more.

\- Kind of. – Erik nodded. – But let's make peace. – He sighed.

\- Peace is in Heaven when God is with us. – She murmured softly.

\- I forgive you. Do you forgive me?

\- I do. – She nodded. – But please tell my son to visit me once if he is still alive.

\- I will. – Erik nodded and turned around. – Adieu, Mother.

\- Adieu… what was your name, again?

Erik sighed and shook his head. It wasn't important any more. He wanted to ask if he really caused his father's death, he wanted to tell Geneviéve that she had 3 grandchildren, he wanted to tell her about his life in a nutshell to finally close a chapter in his life, but it was clear that she wasn't capable of understanding the happenings around her, and she was clueless about even his identity. She still knew he had a son, but did not recognize him.

\- Here is my address. – He gave a visiting card to the guard befor he left the building. – Please inform me if … something happens to Geneviéve.

With that, he left the place and headed back to Paris. Screams and cries and maniacal laughter were haunting his hearing long after he left the borders of the village.

When he arrived back home, he had bittersweet feelings about the happenings in the mental asylum. As Christine was asking him, he shortly informed her about the conversation they had with Geneviéve. Part of him calmed down: he at least tried, and he saw mother for one last time.

\- I thought your mother was already…

\- Dead? – He asked.

\- Yes. I mean, you said we had furniture from your mother and I guessed she died before.

\- Yes, I sold her home and kept the furniture I wanted to furnish my home with.

\- And where is she? May I visit her as well? I'd like to meet her.

\- She is in an institution for mentally ill people. I took her there after a suicide attempt of hers, where they diagnosed her with some problems and since that I hadn't seen her. I don't think it would have any use of you to visit her, Christine. She doesn't even recognize me. She is wrong in the head. I think I inherited it from her.

\- Oh Erik, please don't say that. – Christine sighed. – But why did you not tell me about it?

\- No one likes to admit that his poor unhappy mother is a lunatic. – He sighed. – She sure was wrong in the head from birth which was worsened by the trauma my birth have caused her, and the alcohol she consumed in her fits of depression.

\- Oh Erik… I am sorry.

\- Don't be. – He hugged her close to himself. – Don't be.

Three weeks later they received a letter in which Erik was informed that Geneviéve Perier had passed away caused by a short and unexpected illness on the 2nd October, 1892 at the age of 79. If only Erik goes later by a week, he did not find her alive. Erik, after reading the letter, sat down on the sofa, leaned his head on the table in the drawing room, and started crying. Christine knelt down beside him, and comfortingly rubbed his back.

\- I am sorry for your loss. . She said softly.

\- I had lost her… many years ago. – Erik cried. – But thank you.

\- Do you wish us to attend her funeral?

\- No. – He shook his head. – And neither will I.

Erik, even though he couldn't speak to her mother the way he wanted to, still felt a kind of relief and peace in his soul. He couldn't stay mad at that woman any longer- whatever she had committed against him long ago, she sure received her punishment for that- as no one deserves twenty years in an asylum, forgotten and despised by everyone. Whatever happened, he should forgive and forget and move on with his life with his family.


	43. Chapter 43

After Geneviéve's death, Erik was able to close and leave behind his past to the best of his abilities. He did not think as much as the unpleasant parts of his life, because he started to find inner peace. He had a loving family, three children who were growing and developing day by day.

A year passed.

A year full of peace and love to each other, and the calendar showed autumn of 1893.

Yvette and Sophie Berger got used to their new home in no time. Yvette was worried at first about her job, and she kept asking Erik if she was good enough with cleaning, and if it isn't a problem she did not finish with cleaning two rooms, but Erik reassured her that it is a big enough help for him that she was there, willing to clean at all, so it is all the same to him if she cleans those rooms on Monday or Tuesday – where and why to hurry? As he got older, he found out there was no need to hurry with anything. And he told this to the younger people in his home as well. How restless these children are, always- he is glad if he can get up from an armchair without pain. And these children just run around all day.

Sophie was attending school and got better and better grades. She was so proud and happy that she learned to read and write, using Braille. She taught it to Mahtab as well, as they were best friends forever. They had an own secret way to communicate, they were leaving small notes for each other, and it was so amusing for them. They had some inside jokes no one else but they understood and Erik was so happy they got along so well and she had a true friend, despite her appearance. Sophie learned to walk all alone in the house, without bumping into anything, and within time she was running downstairs just as fast as Mahtab or any of the healthy children. Smaller accidents only happened when Sophie could not see if someone was passing by or standing at the bottom of the stairs and Sophie was descending too fast. She bumped into Erik sometimes or once she jumped on his foot, and Erik, even though he got a bit of angry at her when that happened, but her fast and desperate apologizing touched his heart. She so much reminded him of young himself, she would apologize for literally EVERYTHING. Spilling out some water on the kitchen floor sent her to tears, even though her mother never scolded her for doing something like this.

\- Don't cry my child, please, it was an accident. I am not angry. – Erik hugged her and patted her shoulder.

\- Are you sure? – She sniffed.

\- Yes, dear, nothing happened. – He reassured. Only after that she calmed down and went about her business.

He wondered if there was someone to comfort him in his childhood maybe he had more self- confidence. He did not want this small girl to turn out as such a small nervous wreck as he used to be. He and all the family always reassured her about they were proud of her, and she was always told how clever and handy she was. Even though she wasn't his own child, Erik got to like Sophie a lot. He thought he did not like children, and he just realized he was able to be kind to a child who isn't his. She really was a smart kid, and her mother made sure she behaved well, and she rose her with love and consistency. Christine was shocked to see that Yvette made Sophie clean their room's floor as well, and help her with dusting.

\- I don't want to tell you what to do, and how to teach your child. – She started shortly after noticing the small blind girl dusting the desk at the guest room. – But… she is blind and…

\- And she has to learn to take care of herself. – Yvette replied kindly but with determination. – I have to teach her to clean. She had her chores at home as well. Just because she cannot see it, dust appears, and I don't want people to say that my daughter lives in a pig sly. She has to learn how to do things if she stays alone. – She lowered her head by the end of her speech, but Christine found her reasoning not only acceptable, but very clever as well. She realized that Erik was talking about this to her as well, when he "forced" Mahtab to learn how to dress up and tie her shoes. Even though Christine was still young yet, she just had a hint of worry about mortality.

She did not yet think about what will happen to Mahtab if they pass away. Erik was already old, and once she will get old and dies. Her life will sure be a hard one and she did not even like to think of it too much. No, she did not like to think about bad things. She did not even want to accept the fact that Erik was getting old. He did not complain, but she noticed his slower walking and sometimes walk with a drag. He needed his walking stick more times than before and it happened so fast, maybe in a year and a half, or so.

\- No, Mahtab, you are a big girl now, you are too heavy for me to carry. – Erik declined when Mahtab wanted to climb on his back to play. To tell the truth, she was already nearly 8 years old and about 140 centimeters tall. She was still thin as a skeleton, just like her father, but it was clearly visible she inherited her height from Erik as well. Erik sometimes joked she could paint the frescos at the Opera ceiling without needing a ladder.

At the age of eight, Mahtab was able to write and read not only in French but in Braille as well, and was able to communicate in the languages of English, German and Farsi. She also learned some Italian sentences mostly from the opera librettos she was reading. She gobbled up books, there were days when she just sat and read books to herself and Sophie as well. Her favorite novel turned out to be Oliver Twist by Dickens. Erik owned a first edition of it, and warned his daughter to take care of it, but let her borrow it for reading. She could cry at the beginning for hours, but would not put it down, even if Erik told her she might be yet too young for it.

\- No because I want to see how it ends. Papa, he won't die… right?

\- No. – Erik smiled.

\- That is good. – Mahtab wiped her forehead with her sleeve. – That would be so not righteous.

Righteous…? Oh, child, life isn't righteous and fair at all, and even though Oliver Twist actually has a happy ending, and it might be based on real life happenings, yet not all orphans, or even real people are as lucky as Oliver, to eventually have his fate changed all to the better, after those many years of sufferings. Fairytales don't just happen that easily- however Erik thought now that his miserable life was one, at that moment. He suffered throughout endless decades, and finally found Christine, the love of his life, who finally married and learned to love him – he still could not understand how, but he was so thankful for it happening. But he wasn't sure Mahtab will be as lucky as he is, especially with her constantly thinking she was a male.

Erik Florian, now a five year old small gentleman, started to act like a small Don Juan, and lived for music. His curly dark locks and huge brown eyes made him look like a small version of Beethoven, but he was most certainly more polite, and thankfully, less deaf. He wasn't as nicely dressed as Mahtab, he still had issues with his cravat and shoelaces, but he did not seem to care about it. He did not know yet how to write words, and read, but he was able to read and write music as much as a trained musician. His strong spot was music, and his weak spot was- well anything else. Mahtab was able to tell the time at his age, but Flo did not even seem to understand what numbers look like and how they work. He was clumsy, not that good at climbing and balancing as his sister was, sometimes even falling in his own feet. Drawing wasn't his cup of tea either, he stuck with drawing stick figures, if he ever picked up a pencil for that reason, but the truth was he would rather write music than draw. Christine remarked that anecdotes said her Papa was just like this, so he received the perfect namesake. He also resembled Erik in a way- he was forgetful and careless if his music was occupying his mind. When he was working on a small piece, the world ceased to exist for him and he was able to jump out of bed in the morning and walk to the piano while getting half dressed, because he simply forgot he should put on trousers with the shirt and underwear to get ready for the day. Erik just shook his head when he noticed Flo at the piano in underwear, shirt and only in one of his socks. A little artist – just he has to be careful not to be too deep in his thoughts while walking on the streets- Erik was once nearly hit by a carriage while working on Don Juan Triumphant in his head during a stroll in Paris. Since that he learned to pay attention a bit more about his surroundings. Christine made a bedding for Flo that had his favorite sheet music written on it- this made Flo to go to bed with a bigger pleasure than before. Since Mahtab spent a lot of time playing and talking with Sophie, Erik had more alone time with Florian. The small boy really appreciated getting more of his Papa, they would spend time playing music or singing together. Flo was a cute mezzosoprano and sang clearly, so Erik loved to have him around. Yet Flo wasn't only having music lessons with Erik. Christine took him to Opera rehearsals to be able to listen to music not only in the performance of his family, and he was able to hear music played on other instruments as well. He was fond of the sound of the clarinet the most, but he loved to play the violin the most. Christine was so happy to have a son who adored music so much. Flo reminded her of both her poor father and Erik in the same person – she was sure that Flo received the right names. She sometimes called him Erik, stroking his dark curls, kissing his forehead. The boy adored this act and he liked his other name as well, only wondered why his Papa never calls him that.

\- Papa! Would you write my name on this? – Florian ran to Erik excitedly at an evening, covered in ink from head to toe. Erik was already used to mess with 4 children in his home, so he did not mind it too much anymore. He just tried to avoid Flo to stain his shirt, but other than that it was all right.

\- Show me what you did here, hm? – He picked the papers from Flo and was smiling upon realizing the young one was trying to write a clarinet concerto. The only problem was that he forgot that a concerto would require a full orchestra, not only a clarinet, two violins and a piano. And it included a few notes no clarinet was able to play.

\- It is very good, my boy. – He kissed his cheek. – It just lacks a few instruments, don't you think?

\- No. – He shook his head.

\- Why, isn't it the first movement of a concerto?

\- No. Can't you see it is in sonata form? – He shrugged. – Papa, it is a sonata for clarinet and violin and piano.

\- Flo dear, a sonata can't have such an orchestration. It is either just clarinet and piano, or violin and piano, sweetie.

\- But yes it can.

\- Who says so, hm? – Erik teased.

\- Me.

\- Flo, if you wish to write a sonata, chose less instruments or write something else.

\- Did not you say that rules were meant to be broken, Papa?

\- Oh- ho, a little rebel! Well… Beethoven included a choir in a symphony and a symphony movement in an opera… why could not you do the same? – He laughed and stroke Flo's hair before leaning down to give him a kiss.

Monsieur LeChat and Shadow were healthy and they were good friends to each other, even though the cat wasn't in the dog's company that much. He chose to lay on top of the piano or at the mantelpiece behind the clock or vases, or on Erik's lap. Erik loved to pet the cat on his lap as he was purring himself to sleep, and he found so much peace in these moments. He felt like a happy old fellow he was always dreaming of to become, sitting in his favorite armchair in front of the fireplace with a dog under his feet and a cat on the top of his lap, with a good book and wine, surrounded by his loving family. The children also adored both the dog and the cat. Noel used poor Shadow for horse riding, which the dog did not seem to mind at all, so Erik was at least happy it wasn't him who had to be the horse. He wasn't totally sure he would be able to get up from the floor so easily if he went down on his hands and knees. It even caused some trouble for him when Mahtab was a toddler, but since that, another six years passed, and those years, combined with his carelessness in his youth, did not do any good for his joints. Who did care at the age of 20 about those spots will be sensitive at the age of 60? He did not even THINK to live up until that age.

The sleeping cat at the piano gave Flo so much warmth in the soul, he would look at Monsieur Jean-Pierre LeChat with love and a huge smile. When the cat had enugh of napping on top of the instrument, he would yawn and stretch for some minutes, then gracefully slide down, jumping on the keys, and from there, on the floor. Flo always laughed at the unintentionally played music that M LeChat's paws made on the keyboard.

\- He is playing cat- music! – He giggled, pointing at the cat.

\- I know. – Erik laughed. – They can even inspire composers sometimes.

\- Really? – Flo asked with amusement.

\- Yes, Scarlatti had a feline companion, and the sweet little animal once walked across the keyboard, inspiring him to write his "Cat Fugue".

\- Did Monsieur LeChat inspire you to write anything yet? – Flo inquired happily.

\- Not yet. – The father laughed. – But it may happen once.

Noel was nearly 3 years old, and he started to show signs of his interests. These interests, however were driving his parents crazy. His first word ever, if we can count it as a word, was describing one of those interests. He just walked to Erik, looked at him with his enchanting clear blue eyes and said:

\- Vrooom!

\- What did you say? – Erik knelt down to understand him better, and only then Noel stated:

\- Car…rrrrr.

\- Car? – Erik asked with awe.

\- Mhm. – Noel nodded eagerly, pointing outside.

\- You want to ride the car?

\- Mhm! – He jumped up and down in excitement, clapping his hands together.

Erik was at least happy that Noel was finally willing to communicate, using real words, if it was only a very few amount of words. For a few months he was only talking in one-word sentences, unlike his other children. He, at least can pronounce the letter "r", which is good. He remembered how much he hated young himself for burring even at the age of 6. He knew Noel wasn't talking too much, but he seemed to understand everything he heard. He was able to name objects, family members, and everything if they asked him about it, but he did not talk by himself, only if he needed something. He tried his best to make the boy speak more, but he secretly assumed it was some "birth defect" Noel had. He was without oxygen for some time after his birth, and who knows what did it cause? He just hoped it will get better, but to tell the truth, he adored Noel no matter what, whether he did or did not talk much. In other aspects, the boy seemed to develop normally. He was able to walk and run, climb on things, he understood everything, and he could see, hear and talk as well. Thank God. He took his young son for car rides in the afternoon, which Noel enjoyed the most. Mahtab and Erik decided to build a smaller version of the car for Noel as a gift, in which he will be able to sit in and drive all alone to make him happy.

The other interest the boy had, however, made Christine worry even more than the car rides and Noel's immense adoration for cars. He loved fire. He was enchanted by fire in the heart, or candlelight. He was fascinated by someone lighting up matches and he wanted to try it out by any cost. Of course, no one let him light a match, which fact often resulted in a temper tantrum. Erik had to realize Noel inherited much of his temper – he was stubborn, touchy and determined to do anything he got in his thick little skull. He once managed to get burns on his hand by touching a lighting candle, no matter how much Christine was trying to restrain him. Of course, he was screaming from pain while Erik was holding his red little hand under the cold running water of the kitchen sink, but it was at least good for one thing – he got way more careful next time, but he was still spellbound by fiery things. Erik decided to show Noel some of his magic tricks that included throwing fireballs or making small sparkles by smacking his fingers. The boy was staring at him speechless without even breathing upon seeing what his Papa can do. Then his first full sentence could be heard:

\- Do it again, Papa!

Erik hoped that he will be able to turn Noel's interest in a less dangerous way if he gets to like magic tricks. It worked out. The young boy wanted to learn card tricks, and Erik found out he was noticeably talented in card games and smaller tricks. So that's how to occupy him…

Christmas came, when Noel turned 3 years old, and received a Birthday and Christmas gift he will never forget. The small car made him scream with happiness and jumping in Erik's arms, hugging him tight and exclaiming

\- Thank you Papa!

\- Merry Christmas, Noel and Happy Birthday! Thank it to Mahtab too, she was helping a lot to make it. – He hugged Noel close to himself.

\- Thank you Mahtab. – He kissed his sister too and instantly jumped in to take a ride in the house.

\- Carefully, sweetie! – Christine called out to warn him.

But Noel wasn't the only one getting such a gift on this Christmas. Christine received a box with a small letter from Erik. She couldn't imagine at first what that might be- it was too big for a jewel box, but too small to be literally anything else.

The letter was the sweetest thing Christine had ever read from Erik, even though he sometimes wrote small love poems or confessions to her, but this one just sent her to tears of joy:

 _To my life and its meaning,_

 _On a night full of worry, Persian Moonlight lit my patch to a father's love,_

 _Which led us to receive the Angel of Music, wearing your father's name,_

 _And in the end, unexpectedly, our little Christmas gift arrived on this Earth, gifting us with his voice._

 _And for this Christmas I give you the keys to your past and my humble heart._

 _Merry Christmas,_

 _Erik_

Opening the box with trembling hands she really found keys. She looked at Erik questioningly, not knowing what they were for.

\- Don't you know what these are? – Erik chuckled.

\- Keys. But what do they open?

\- Well, that is a valid question, my love. Try to guess.

\- A house…?

\- Yes. But where?

\- Not here… I… wait… the keys to my past?

\- You are at the right patch, yes.

\- In Perros? – She gasped.

\- Clever girl. – Erik kissed her forehead gently.

\- You bought a house in Perros? – She laughed and cried at the same time.

\- Yes. A summer home for us. I know how much you loved those times you could spend there with your father, and I wanted to bring back those times for you and give it to the children as well. I know they will love it there again. I will have to retouch it a bit, but you will see it will worth it in the end.

\- Just carefully, dear. – Christine hugged her husband close and lay her head on his shoulder. – Thank you.

She couldn't say more because of being so touched, and Erik was so happy to be able to give his wife so much happiness. He never thought someone will be so glad to be with him, and worry about him as much as his sweet modest and loving Christine. And she deserves the whole world for it.


	44. Chapter 44

Raoul de Chagny was trying his best to look as handsome as possible on that beautiful day. He wore his uniform and shined his shoes as beautifully as it was possible, he trimmed and brushed his mustache, and made his hair to be fashionable but suitable for the occasion. He spent two hours to look perfect. Oh, if only he did not have those gray hairs in his hairdo. Is it really that bold? He looks way older than he should. He was only 33 years old, but he looked like he was 40, or even 45. Damn this gray hair and some small amount of gray hair even started to appear in his mustache. If he picks them out his mustache will be too thin. Why should he age so fast? Philippe was 40 years old, when he died, and Raoul was pretty sure he looked WAY better than he did right now. It was important for him to look good that day, as Yvette should really find him attractive enough. He really should not look so old and weary to make a great impression.

He was invited to Erik's home for an after Christmas celebration along with the Daroga. Christmas was always the right occasion if someone wanted to do such a thing as he planned… he often heard of such things happening among his friends, and it was considered to be romantic by the ladies.

No one else knew about his plans, but him. He knew well that he had a huge risk, as his plan could backfire as well, and it will be much humiliating in front of that many people. There will be Erik, the Daroga, Yvette, all the four children, and… Christine.

 _Oh, Christine, I hope you can forgive me for the betrayal_.

He loves her in a way still, and always will, as a first love, he heard everyone remembers his first love of his life, and he also loved Christine as a friend, and she sure held a special place in his heart ever since their childhood.

But it was time to move on. He can't live his all life alone, knowing Christine can never be his, as she already has her family. Her husband and her children. She already made decisions and has a life. He should do the same finally, stop dwelling on the past and let Christine go, and have an own life with an own family. He will remember the sweet childhood with Christine Daaé, and accept the fact that she can never be Christine de Chagny as he always imagined in the past.

Yvette Berger should rather become Yvette de Chagny, as she deserves happiness that he sure will be able to give her and Sophie. Yvette was such a sweet woman, kind, charming and beautiful. Whenever he went to visit the Spöke family, they had a nice talk, and he spent time with Sophie, and he knew he already loved her, just as he loved Yvette. They were already very close friends to each other, he just wasn't sure if the woman agreed to marry him or not.

Is he handsome enough? Is he kind enough? Is he a good enough party? He is only a retired and injured sailor, with a noble name but his family's displeasure about his plan to marry Christine and then Philippe's death… his sisters did not talk to him since that. He literally made everyone angry with him, even Christine, back then. He has a prosthetic hand, and even that it is because Erik made him one. But as he was thinking, he had to realize that even Erik, the manipulative serial killer ugly monster was a good enough party for a marriage, and he now has children. He had to admit that Erik had changed a lot since those happenings, but if Christine married him, there is no reason that Yvette will say no to him. He is totally capable of taking care of himself and even others, he felt. He learned to use his new hand during those years just as it was his own, he was born with.

He placed the small jewel box carefully in his coat pocket, caressing the lid with his thumb and took a deep breath before he put on his cloak and hat and left the house. Time has come. Either now or never.

As he entered the house, he instantly noticed Yvette and the fact how beautiful she looked again in a mustard- yellow gown. Yes, he saw it once on Christine, but he was ashamed to admit he loved the way it looked more on Yvette than on Christine. The dress went better with Yvette's red hair than the blonde Christine, maybe which is why Christine did not like it that much. Yvette was breathtakingly beautiful, even more beautiful since she wore the clothes Christine had given her instead of her old, simple and weary ones. Since her face wasn't already shadowed by sadness and worry, she looked much younger and healthier. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes shone with delight. It was a nice move of Erik that he did not treat Yvette as a maid, but a family member, so she did not have to help off the coat of the guests, or she did not have to serve meal as the maids at de Chagny households. She met the guests just as the family did, so she received a gentle kiss on the hand by Raoul. Her enchanting blue eyes lit up with happiness upon seeing Raoul again and she sent him a warm and friendly smile. This was a great sign, yet again.

Sophie was cheerfully running after Noel in the Hall, who refused to leave his toy car for more time than to have his needs taken care of, other than that he was driving all around the house, yelling "Out of my way, wrooooom" to anyone who stepped in front of his car, but as the girl noticed Raoul, she happily ran to greet him.

\- Dear Monsieur, I am so glad to meet you again! I missed you!

\- Oh, Sophie… - He was touched by the child's sudden love shown towards him, and he hugged her tight. – I missed you too.

The Daroga noticed Raoul's intent and he whispered it to Erik during meal.

\- I think Raoul wants to make a life- changing decision.

\- I know. – Erik nodded, while drinking some wine.

\- How?

\- One notices someone in love. Especially if I have seen Raoul's pleading puppy eyes. – Erik chuckled in the Daroga's right ear. No one else but he could hear it, which caused the poor Persian to choke on a bite of potato, which met halfway with the upcoming laughter. Erik slapped his back a few times, remarking he does not like dead bodies at his dinner table, so the Daroga should finally learn to eat properly.

During the dinner, Raoul tried to send glances towards Yvette which were supposed to be express his love, but he felt they looked rather awkward, so he stopped it after a while, even thoughhe received friendly smiles from Yvette as a response. Erik and the other adults decided to leave Raoul and Yvette alone in the room for some time, not to bother them while this important scenario takes place, and despite Erik promised the children they may stay up late, he decided to send them to bed so they won't bother.

When the dinner ended, Erik told the children to start getting ready for bed as it was already late. Yvette sent Sophie to bed too, and promised her she will be in the room not too much time later to kiss her good night. Flo and Sophie obediently walked out of the room, but the other two did not like the fact that they had to go to bed earlier than it was promised.

\- I thought we could stay up late! – Mahtab expressed her displeasure. – It's Christmas.

\- And my Birthday. – Noel added.

\- Christmas, and your Birthday, my son, was yesterday. Today you will go to bed just as you always do, so stop arguing.

\- You promised we can stay up late! – Mahtab retorted as they were being pulled out of the room by Erik.

\- I admit I did, but please stop it Mahtab. Tomorrow you may stay up late, but today plans changed.

\- Why?

\- Because the adults have something important business to do and you, children have nothing to do with that.

\- I am a big boy and I want to see what happens. – Mahtab wanted to turn around, but Erik forced her to stay on her place.

\- It is none of your business. The adults will tell it to you later if they want to. – Erik said strictly. – Now you all three go and take a bath and brush your teeth, then go to your room. I will check on you later.

\- It is not righteous. – Noel pointed at Erik, and parroted the sentence he heard from Mahtab sometimes, but he backed away when his father leaned closer to him.

\- Noel, it is already _one_.

The small boy found it better not to wait until Erik reaches _three_. It was a new rule Erik made up with his children, if they misbehaved, he would start counting, and after _three_ , there came some kind of punishment. Either they had to stand in the corner, or kneel on top of bits of corn if they did something real bad. Actually Noel laughed at Erik for the first time as he received the corn – punishment, but after some minutes of corn bits digging into his bare skin he was begging to be let go, and promised in tears that he will never ever do such a thing again. It was really a better idea not to wait until _three_. So with a bit of grumpy moaning, Mahtab and Noel went to get ready for bed as well.

Christine and the Daroga followed Erik outside of the room, and as Raoul and Yvette stayed in the room all alone, the young man took a few steps towards the beautiful young lady. His hand was shaking and he swallowed some, but finally, he found the courage to start speaking.

\- Yvette dear… I would like to talk to you about an important question, regarding the future. – He paused, and looked her in the eye, trying to figure out if he should dare to continue or not. Yvette was looking at him with a smile, so he continued. – Are you happy here?

\- Yes, I am happy here. My child and I have a good place to stay and a job. We get enough food and we have everything we should need. But why do you ask?

\- I ask this because I daresay I could imagine a better place for you, or at least, I would hope so.

\- Do you have something to offer for us? – She looked at him in surprise.

\- I would like to ask and offer at the same time. – He went down on his knee before the standing woman, and reached into his pocket, showing her the ring box. – I would like to ask you to be my wife, and move to my home, and gift me with the joy of having Sophie as a daughter and I would like to offer you a home, wealth, and last but not the least: a love of a man and a father.

To be honest, Yvette suspected of something similar to happen, as Raoul was acting strange the whole evening, but to be honest, she could not believe one could be as lucky as her. At first, Erik took them here with her daughter, took care of them just as they were family members, and now a nobleman asks her to be his wife. She felt like Cinderella, and thought so many great things simply can't happen to a person. She got worried that it was too beautiful to be true.

\- But what will people say? You, with your name and position… marry someone like me. I have nothing and no one other my blind daughter. I had been married before. People will talk about us.

\- Let them. – Raoul answered with passion. – I don't care about them as long as you are mine. Please answer me, Yvette. I love you.

\- I love you too. – She replied with a sudden realization. – If you are sure you won't regret your decision later…

\- There is no chance for that.

\- Then… Yes, I will be your wife.

Silence fell on the room, but not much later, Raoul burst out in a relieved sob, hugging his new fiancée to him, and gently kissing her on the cheek.

\- Thank you! – He whispered. – I am the happiest of men.

"They should hurry up a bit and decide… this mask is driving me crazy and I have other plans for the night…" – Christine heard Erik's voice thrown in her right ear and blushed bright red upon hearing it. She whispered a soft "Erik, for Heaven's…" when the door opened and Raoul stepped out, holding Yvette by the arm.

\- Gentlemen… Christine… we have something to tell you. We are going to be wed. – Raoul announced with a huge smile.

As the new couple received everyone's congratulations, Raoul turned to Erik and said:

\- I would like to ask a favor.

\- I try my best to grant it. – Erik shrugged with a bit of surprise. – What that may be?

\- I would appreciate it if you were my best man at my wedding.

Silence came, Erik could not believe his ears. He did not want to bother the subject too much in front of Yvette, but he did not believe he was asked to be Raoul de Chagny's best man after the Torture Chamber, Philippe's death…

\- Why me? – He inquired quietly.

\- Because you did me so much good things in the past few years. You gave me my hand, and you gave me the possibility to meet my wife. I would like you to be with me on the happiest day of my life. Please.

\- If it really is what you want… - Erik hesitated a bit, but reached out for a handshake. – I will help with anything I can… and I am happy you will finally have a wife of your own. You will see, your life will change. A bachelor is just half a man. I am so happy to have Christine. You deserve such a happiness as well.

\- Thank you, Erik. – Yvette replied in between tears. – But please know that I am not leaving you all until the wedding. I am helping you and stay with you so you won't be left alone in trouble.

\- Thank you if it does not cause you trouble… - Erik bowed his head.

\- And I would like to ask you not to call me by noble titles. The fact I marry Raoul does not mean I become her Highness. – She laughed. – I am Yvette, and will always be.

The next morning Yvette and Erik told the children about the news. Sophie was happy, but Mahtab frowned a bit.

\- So you will leave us? – She turned to Yvette.

\- Yes, eventually, but not yet.

\- And so will Sophie…?

\- Yes, we move to the Chagny estate, but… it is not a final good bye, Mahtab dear. We will come to visit you all, and you will be invited to visit us as well, anytime you wish to come.

\- Do you promise? – She asked suspiciously. – I don't want to lose a friend again. I have already lost one because Papa took her in parts.

\- Mahtab, silence! – Erik gasped embarrassedly. – I did not murder anyone, before you would think so. – He explained nervously later. – I made up a doll for her as a friend and I dissembled it. She still keeps complaining about it.

\- I think that meant a lot to her. – Yvette smiled. – And I know what she feels. I was separated from my best childhood friend once as well and I thought my heart will break. But we would never separate Mahtab and Sophie forever.

The few months passed so fast to the wedding. Spring came with great weather and the wedding day. It was 31st May, a Thursday. Sophie was happily jumping next to Mahtab, who tried to be happy as well, but to be honest, she wasn't. She had to wear a dress and a hat with a veil, and Christine put make up on her face to cover her deformity as much as it was possible, and the hat veil helped a lot as well, and she was wearing her fake nose. But the saddest part wasn't the inconvenience this caused, but the fact that she will have to say good bye to Sophie. She honestly doubted they will meet ever again.

Erik was standing behind Raoul and he was a bit of nervous as well. He maybe was even more nervous than Raoul, even though it wasn't his wedding. It was a really hot day and he was wearing a full tuxedo, with the human mask, and he was praying his sweat won't ruin the mask or make it slip off at the worst time. He was partly happy about Raoul's offer and gesture towards him, but he did not like to be in the center of attention. Too many people were looking at him, and he still disliked that. He never thought he would be Raoul de Chagny's best man.

Christine was the bridesmaid and she was comforting the worked up Yvette. The bride still could not believe it was really happening to her. She was laughing and crying at the same time. Christine constantly had to correct her make up as it was coming off by crying. She finally calmed down enough to keep her condition until the ceremony ended.

The wedding was very simple and there were too small amount of guests, compared to Raoul's state of wealth and nobility, but he did not mind it. He was among the people he liked, and that was all that mattered. He never thought he will have a wife, and he never thought that wife would be someone other than Christine. But now as he looked at his beautiful bride, he knew he chose the right woman to live with.

All of Erik's children were invited, of course, and even Noel behaved normally, thank God. Florian had an important job, he carried the ring to the couple. He wore a black frock coat and looked like a small gentleman, smiling widely. When he arrived to them, he whispered "You are beautiful." To Yvette, which act made the woman so touched she could have hugged the small boy tight right at that moment. Sophie was standing between Raoul and Yvette and both of them placed a hand on her shoulder. She wore a beautiful light peach dress and a matching hat with flowers. No one would have told she was blind as she learned to walk with more confidence at the School of the Blind. Raoul's fake hand was so lifelike that no one noticed the difference. The ring was put on his right ring finger just as it was with any other couple's but later Raoul put it on his left hand, explaining that he felt it there, and he did not want to lose it. It was more precious for him than anything else on the Earth, as whenever he looked at the ring, he saw a proof that he finally started to lead a new life with someone he loved, and who loved him with all her heart.

The wedding was as beautiful as both Raoul and Yvette imagined it to be in their dreams. Raoul was happy to finally have such a sweet and beautiful wife and a child, and Yvette was happy to have a husband again, after so many years spent alone. Raoul was an awesome and caring man, a very sweet partner, a gentleman. And he loved Sophie so much. They both knew it will be a bit of hard to raise a disabled child, but their love for the young girl shall easily overcome everyday problems. They will be such a happy family together…

But they weren't only the three of them for a long time. Not even a year after the wedding was needed for a small miracle to happen. On 11th March, 1895, the first child of Yvette and Raoul was born. It was a healthy and strong baby boy, who looked exactly like Raoul in his childhood. The same nose, the same huge eyes, and he already had some soft blondish hair when he entered the world. The couple chose the youngest family member to receive the dearest male name to the proud father:

 _"_ _Philippe"._


	45. Chapter 45

A lot of changes happened in the Spöke family after Yvette's and Raoul's wedding. Too many things changed. First of all, Mahtab suddenly couldn't find her place in the family. Before she was nearly always with Sophie, and Flo and Noel suddenly seemed to get way more attention from Erik than before, and she got less as she felt it. Sophie moved away with Tonton Raoul, and even though they met in the weekends for a few hours, and she was the happiest when meeting her friend, and playing with her, those times were so little, compared to the time they used to spend together. It happened that they were allowed to sleep together, they were playing in the garden or Mahtab read stories for Sophie… but now, they had to go home or the de Chagnys left so soon… too soon, and they did not meet again for a full week. She felt lonely on the other days of the week.

Erik did not seem to notice the problem. He thought he was just spending as much time with Mahtab as he did before, but to tell the truth, he wasn't right. He really preferred Florian or Noel, unintentionally these days. Noel was so good at learning magic tricks. They were playing card games and Erik said Noel will turn out to be an even more gifted illusionist than his father. And Flo… Flo was a musician, a child prodigy. Erik loved to play duos with him, Florian was a perfectly gifted violinist and pianist by the summer of 1894, when he was nearly 6 years old, and already he filled up a book with his compositions. They started to play Florian's music, and Erik was praising him oh so much… while Mahtab only received some casual "Nice work, Mahtab" or "Mhm, good" from Papa about a structural design. She wanted to be better than Flo, which resulted in many hours of violin practicing, but she wasn't getting any better than before. Christine noticed Mahtab's desperation and tried to talk to Erik, who did not want to accept the fact that he was emotionally neglecting Mahtab in the past few months. That's what he wanted to do the least, to be honest, and he did not notice he was doing it. Mahtab did not say him anything, so he did not know the child feels that way, he only assumed it was just Christine over-reacting about something, as it was her habit sometimes. And practicing certainly isn't a problem, he stated. Erik did not know that practicing wasn't out of so much love for the music any more as it used to be. Many tears and frustration had accompanied the melodies the small girl produced with that violin in the music room. As music did not get any better than before, she finally decided she will talk to Erik in foreign languages, mostly in Farsi to impress him. It worked out for some time, Mahtab got more praising from Erik for using correct Persian sentences and being able to talk to him about more and more subjects. But sadly, every miracle lasts for only three days, and the conversations in Farsi were soon only out of routine. No one was surprised about her skills, no one praised her for being so very clever. She was already a big girl, turning nine years old that November – she seemed to be less of an attraction. Being clever wasn't such an achievement for a nine- year old girl as it was of a six and a nearly four- year old boy. They were smarter.

Things only got worse when Christine came up with the idea that Florian won't be homeschooled like Mahtab. Erik and her spent an afternoon arguing about the subject in which Erik listed his reasons to disagree, but Christine Spöke was just as stubborn as Erik – if she wanted something, then she DID want something and no matter how stubborn and determined Erik was about the issue, she did not give up her decision. Flo was a healthy boy without any deformities, he can't be locked away from other children and be homeschooled, and same shall happen to Noel in two years. Even though they thought Mahtab did not hear them because she was practicing, she accidentally overheard the sentences about her deformity and it to be the reason she was always kept at home. She did not think things through yet, and she did not find out that these two things were logically connected. She imagined it was normal to be taught at home, but now, as her brother will go to school, she started to be so curious about it. She was begging Erik to buy a schoolbag for her as well, and her wish was granted, even though Erik knew well that she will never use it outside the house.

Erik left the house every morning with Flo to take him to school by the car and went to get him in the afternoon when fall came. She was left at home with Christine and Noel and the animals, no matter how much she wanted to go as well. Just one more addition to her feeling that Erik did not lie her that much anymore. Florian seemed to like school. It must be a great place, but no matter how much she wanted to go, Erik never allowed her to accompany them, not even only to the gate of the school. She stood sadly on the garden patch, holding the leather schoolbag, fully packed with her ABC book and pencils every morning while Erik's car disappeared from the road in front of the house.

In these days, when she walked back in the house with her unused schoolbag, she walked into Erik's study and picked up an empty booklet and started writing a diary. In this small book she wrote about the day's happenings, her feelings about them and sometimes she wrote small ideas or wishes of hers that were either granted or not. She mostly did not need gifts- just attention. Neither Erik nor Christine knew about Mahtab's diary. It was kept secretely in Mahtab's schoolbag, at least it was used for something.

As she wrote her diary, more and more times she realized the reason behind her separation from the world and her face were connected. She now knew it was a bad thing she did look like Papa. Up until this time, it was only natural to her, but she now had enough intelligence and life experience to word what the problem was with her. In her diary she started calling herself by that word her family never used to describe her: "ugly."

One day in late October, Christine stormed into Erik's study, where Noel and him were trying out some new card tricks, and gasped:

\- Erik, please help, the child is ill.

\- Which one? – He stood up from his chair.

\- Mahtab.

\- What has happened?

\- She is complaining about stomach ache and she vomited. – She stated worriedly.

\- Oh… only that? – Erik waved in the air with a sudden relief. – It means nothing serious, children tend to overeat. You gave her too much chocolate.

\- And does eating chocolate cause shivers? – She leaned closer, and Erik was suddenly frightened by her look. – Would your highness be so kind to at least LOOK AT her before diagnosing?

\- Of course, dear… stay here, Noel, I will be right back.

When Erik stepped into the master bedroom and found Mahtab in his bed, he turned to Christine.

\- Why did you put her in MY bed?

\- She was weak, she wanted to lay down.

\- Yes, but she has an own bed, why in mine does she sleep if she is sick? She will vomit on my sheets.

\- Selfish pig! – Christine yelled at him.

\- Yes, just spoil them to no end. – Erik growled and walked closer to the child to examine her. – What's wrong, Mahtab?

\- I am sick. – She whined.

\- Well, go to your room and sleep there. You should feel better in a few hours.

By the evening Mahtab did not feel any better, on the contrary. She developed a fever, had the chills with constant stomach ache a very sore throat and she had trouble with swallowing things, even warm milk. She lay in her bed, crying from pain and Erik suddenly finally realized something was terribly wrong. He drove off to downtown to fetch Dr. Bonsanté and have Mahtab checked, while accusing himself of carelessness and being evil.

The doctor got noticeably uneasy after finishing the check up and softly announced that the girl had scarlet fever. Christine instantly fainted upon hearing the news, and while the doctor was reviving her with smelling salts, Erik packed all of Mahtab's beddig and the child herself, putting her to bed in the guest bedroom. He knew she had to be separated from the other children as far as possible and everything she touched shall be sterilized – scarlet fever was contagious and was able to cause awful illnesses. He briefly explained it to Christine as well, and sadly, Mahtab was fully aware of that fact: she heard everything. She is dangerous to her family! God… it is her fault if someone else will get sick!

Erik was the one who stayed with the girl as she was ill, and he made sure to lock the door leading to the guest bedroom in which they were staying in up until Mahtab will get better and won't be contagious and a potential danger for the rest of the family. Erik was sure it will be fine: he had scarlet fever in his childhood already, so he was the person who was the most suitable for nursing the child. Even though he was sure he won't get it, Erik cleaned everything several times a day which fact even made Mahtab more cautious about the whole illness. She was feeling lousy and Erik kept washing his hands any time he touched her. She felt herself so filthy and unneeded, even if Erik was kind and caring to her. He did not say anything bad even when she accidentally vomited all over the floor, but she was sad about it. Especially when she saw how heavy she was for Erik when he had to lift her out of bed. She was like a toddler in a teen's body, and Erik had hard time with his joints and Mahtab could see he had pain in his knees or elbows.

"It is because of me."

She was thinking about this the whole time. She had to spend her ninth Birthday in bed with her father taking care of her. Erik spent time with her, just as she wanted before, but she was too ill to be able to enjoy it. When she got the rash appeared on her skin, Erik was trying to make her laugh by showing her reflection in the mirror, but she only got disgusted of the sight. She was really THAT ugly.

She was finally starting to feel better after some days, even though her fever did not want to break too easily. Doctor Bonsanté did everything to make her feel better, and reassured her at every visit of his that she will get cured. Thankfully scarlet fever was not too serious with Mahtab. Many children died of that illness or got blind or had terrible illnesses leftover from it. She seemed to get cured normally.

Erik found Mahtab's diary while packing things at the children's room. He noticed the girl's beautiful handwriting, and rather by curious intents than by suspicion he started to read it. He knew he should not read other people's diaries, but to tell the truth, he had not spoken to Mahtab for a time as father and daughter and he wanted to find out what was on his daughter's mind lately. The things he read shocked him:

 _1_ _st_ _September, '94_

 _Today was Flo's first day at school. I don't know what that place is like, but Flo seemed to like it a lot. He said he was with 19 other boys, just like him, and that they play outside, but they also will learn to read and write. I know I can read and write, but playing with kids would be fine. I wish I was there, but Papa does not let me go there…_

 _7_ _th_ _September_

 _Flo is six years old today. Happy Birthday Flo! Papa wrote him a piano piece which he can play. He plays beautifully and it makes me partly happy and partly sad. Papa never wrote me a piece because he knows I am not good enough to play it…._

 _2_ _nd_ _October_

 _We were trying to play a trio with Papa and Flo but I kept messing up my part, so Papa asked me to leave the room after some time. I know I am not good. I wish I was as talented as Flo… Papa would love me more if I was, I am sure. Papa used to love me more when I was small. He would always talk to me and put me on his lap. He would tell me I was so clever and so good. I guess I am not that clever any more compared to Flo or Noel. But they look different as well, maybe that is why Papa loves them more? Because I am ugly?_

 _…_ _I know I cannot go to school because I am ugly…_

 _11_ _th_ _October_

 _My throat hurts. I am not telling. No one cares. If I die, maybe Papa will be happier only with Flo and Noel. They are cute and I am ugly._

These were the most painful lines he read in his whole life. The diary contained similar entries of the other days as well, but these were the worst parts. He had no idea Mahtab had so awful thoughts about herself! What a monster he was for not even noticing his sweet little Persian Moonlight was in such an emotional despair! He rushed to the bed, knelt down to the bedside and took that small skeletal hand and leaned close to the child, kissing her cheeks endlessly. Mahtab opened her mismatched eyes, looking at Erik in a mix of astonishment and worry.

\- Papa, don't kiss me!

\- Why? – He asked with surprise.

\- Because if you kiss me you get sick. I give you nothing but illness and death.

\- God, what are you saying… - He gasped, hugging Mahtab close to himself, cradling her in his arms. – Mahtab… I love you! Please my dear child… forgive me. I treated you unkindly. I did not realize you were sad. I love you and will always love you so much… so… so much!

\- Really, Papa?

\- Yes. – He nodded, kissing her forehead. – More than anything.

With a relieved sigh, she closed her eyes and slept, knowing Papa was finally back to his old self, loving her.

Finally Mahtab got all better after they made peace with Erik, her recovery sped up. Doctor Bonsanté said there was no need for separation any more as the rash was already disappearing and she wasn't feverish any more. Mahtab could return to the children's room and her brothers were happy to see her.

\- We missed you. – Flo hugged her and Noel patted her back.

\- Yes, Mama told you are very sick. – Noel said. – I was afraid you will disappear.

\- I won't. – Mahtab hugged both of her brothers, being happy that she means no more danger to anyone.

Sadly, trouble did not end there.

Just when everyone seemed to get calm about Mahtab's illness finally got healed, and forget all about the awful weeks it had caused, Erik started feeling lousy. He hoped it was only a nasal infection again, but as he had to rush to the bathroom to get rid of his stomach's contents, he realized it was something more serious. Checking his temperature validated his worry: he had fever. He sighed and wanted to visit the doctor by the car, but Christine ordered him to bed and went to fetch the doctor herself.

Mahtab was half- mad with worry and remorse, she was shaking from head to foot and bit her nails. It was because of her, she KNEW it. When the doctor finally arrived and examined Erik, he shook his head and sighed.

\- Oh Erik, you have successfully caught scarlet fever.

\- But that's impossible! – He retorted. – I had already had it.

\- Erik, sadly getting sick with scarlet fever does not result in life-long immunity. You can get sick with it more times.

\- God damn it… - Erik moaned.

\- Just rest. – The doctor sighed. – I will come back later.

They left the room with Christine and headed to the drawing room, as the doctor wanted to have a few words with Christine. She knew it did not mean anything good. Mahtab followed them to the door of the drawing room, and was listening through the closed door worriedly.

\- Oh Christine, I don't have good news.

\- Why? – She asked softly.

\- Erik shouldn't have stayed with Mahtab for too much time while she was sick.

\- He cured her. – Christine said.

\- Oh, God, no.

\- Why, doctor, pray tell, what has happened?

\- Scarlet fever is caused by the same toxin as rheumatic fever.

\- God! – Christine screamed.

\- Erik should have been separated from her the most. More than other children. I am afraid Erik's scarlet fever can turn into another case of rheumatic fever.

\- Can you… prevent it?

\- Yes, I try my best to do so, but Erik is not a young man, and the last time he had it, he nearly had complications caused by it. It can attack his heart…

\- And cause his death…? – Christine whimpered.

\- In the worst scenario… yes.

Mahtab gasped in horror upon hearing the shocking news. Her sweet Papa was maybe dying because of her. If she did not catch this illness that was the most dangerous for Papa, he would still live happily and healthily with Flo, Noel and Mama. Why did she have to be ill? Why? Maybe she really should have disappeared months before, maybe that is why Papa wasn't with her… maybe he felt something? She did not want to wait until her beloved Papa dies. He said then a person never wakes up and has to be buried under the ground. She does not want that. She only causes trouble. Things can't go on like this any longer. There was only one solution to that.

With a sudden determination she put on her coat, cap and boots, opened the front door and hurried through the garden path without being noticed by anyone in the house. It will be the best for everyone if her, the source of every trouble finally leaves the house and frees her family up from the misfortune she keeps causing them. If she truly loves them she has to do what's best to them, not her.

With her mismatched eyes full of tears, and still feeling a bit of weak from the illness, had lost a lot of weight so her coat was hanging on her skeletal body, she stirred her stump along the snowy road as fast as she could to leave the house behind.


	46. Chapter 46

A few hours passed since Mahtab's abrupt runaway when Christine tiredly went to call the children for supper after she finished forcing some spoonful of soup into Erik. Flo and Noel ran to sit at the table, but Mahtab was missing. Christine looked at the boys questioningly and asked if they had seen their sister. Both of them answered no. Christine, forgetting all of her tiredness, ran through the whole house, but she couldn't find the girl anywhere. She was gasping heavily, and shaking in her whole body. No, she should not panic, the other children will be afraid. She put on her coat and hat to protect herself from the wind and snow and stepped outside to peek out in the garden, but Mahtab wasn't there either. It was already dark, and the trees in the garden now looked to be so threatening. She shuddered with cold and fear and brokenly returned in the house to think through what to do. Why and where did she go? Her winter clothes disappeared as well, making it obvious that she was outside somewhere. Well, they did not want or need anything more than this! Trouble always comes in groups, Mahtab was ill, now Erik is seriously ill, and the child disappears… and she is alone with two young children and an ill husband. They have to find Mahtab as soon as possible! She is only a nine year- old child, many potential dangers were threatening her… GOD!

She tried to compose herself enough to be able to think logically when the doorbell rang. Christine jumped up as thunder struck her and hurried to answer it, hoping it was Mahtab, but it wasn't. The Doctor stood there with a worried expression upon realizing Christine's panic.

\- What has happened? Is Erik worse?

\- Mahtab… Mahtab… - She gasped, looking around nervously.

\- She fell ill again?

\- Disappeared! – Christine sobbed.

\- Oh dear… well… I go to check on Erik, give him some laudanum and after I take you around in the city to search for her. Don't worry, go and take care of the boys, put them to bed, then we go and look around at the neighbors or friends you think she could have gone to. Please be careful. Don't worry, here everything will be fine.

After the doctor calmed her down a little, she hurriedly fed the boys, and sent them to the bathroom and to bed after dinner. When she tucked the boys in and left the room, the doctor was washing his hands in the guest bathroom and stepped out in the hall.

\- Is he better? – Christine whispered.

\- Well enough. He isn't too cooperative, but I gave him some laudanum to make him sleep. He did not really want to take it.

\- Do you think he will develop rheumatic fever?

\- I am not sure yet. His joints look normal to me yet. But it can happen.

\- I think… if you are really willing to help me… we should go to de Chagnys. They have a daughter whom Mahtab adores. I think she went to visit her… I hope so.

Even though it was too late for a visit, Christine asked Yvette and Raoul if Mahtab was there or not, but sadly, they haven't seen her the whole day. In her final despair, Christine asked the doctor to ride to the Persian. Darius wasn't too happy to be woken up so late at night, and wanted to tell Christine to go home and come back in the morning, but she was way too hysterical to accept that, and her crying woke the Perisan up, who hurriedly put on a shirt and a pair of pants and went to meet Christine. He quickly dismissed Darius and put his hand on Christine's shoulder.

\- What has happened, Christine?

\- Mahtab… ran away…

\- Oh Allah… not that…

\- Yes… yes… I… she… did not go to Raoul…

\- Ssssh! Christine, it is all right… please calm down a bit. I put on my clothes and we go to your house. There we work things out, please. Doctor, thank you, but don't spend time here, we will fetch a cab.

The doctor left and Christine did not remember how they got home with the Daroga. Everyone else was asleep. Both the kids and Erik, who sometimes shivered with fever, but other than that he slept.

\- Christine, when did you notice she was missing?

\- She wasn't here at dinnertime… until that I took care of Erik, I don't know.

\- Why do you have to take care of him, is he ill?

\- Yes.

\- Did she take any money?

\- I don't think so.

\- Does she have any money on her own?

\- Erik gives her allowance of 5 francs a week. He wants to teach her how to handle money.

\- That's not too much, thankfully, she won't be able to travel far with that, and I doubt she would walk on foot.

\- Erik says one can learn to economize only if they don't have too much.

\- He has a point. Don't you think where could she go?

\- I am clueless. I only thought of Sophie, but she isn't at the Chagny house.

\- Can you guess why did she leave?

\- No.

\- Did Erik and she had a fight, perhaps?

\- No, Erik did not see her since he is sick.

\- What is his illness?

\- Scarlet fever.

\- Mahtab's scarlet fever?

\- Yes…

\- I think I know why she left. She accuses herself for Erik's state of health.

\- God…

\- She ran away not to cause trouble. We have to find her. Did not she mention a place she would want to visit?

\- I… don't… well… but yes, now I think… she said… Persia.

\- Persia? Well, that's a bit of far, but… at least now I have a clue.

\- Do you honestly think that a nine year- old child could travel alone to Persia?

\- Of course, not. But I now go and try to search for her on the street, and I am not coming back until I find her. She is sure still near. She just got better of an illness, she is not that strong yet and can't walk that fast as earlier. Take care, Christine. I am sure we return soon.

Morning came, and noon followed. The other children felt that Mama was nervous, and tried to act normally, which fact made Christine thankful. Her hands were constantly trembling of being worked up. Nor Mahtab or the Persian showed up, and she got more nervous minute by minute. She chose rather not to tell this to Erik as she did not want him to worry about Mahtab as well – it was bad enough that he was ill. He should focus on getting better and… she should just hope for the best.

Erik, however wasn't stupid.

He figured out something was wrong, so he asked Christine when she sat down to give him a plate with toast and a cup of tea.

\- What is your problem?

\- Nothing. – She hurried to assure him everything was fine.

\- Really? – He leaned closer, even though it required him a lot of effort as he felt weak and his head throbbed.

\- Really, Erik, I am fine.

\- You are trembling. I know you for 13 years. I can tell by a move of your eye if you lie to me. And now you do.

\- You are ill and I am worried.

\- There is something more than that.

\- No.

\- Yes.

\- It is just that. – She wanted to hand Erik the tea, but he hit the cup out of her hand, which shattered to a million pieces on the floor.

\- YOU LIE! – He yelled and grabbed Christine by the arm, who wanted to collect the remains of the cup from the floor and pulled her close to himself. – Tell me what happened!

\- Erik…

\- It is with the child, isn't it? Mahtab!

\- No…

\- YES!

\- She is fine…

\- PROVE IT! – He shook Christine's arm and gripped it harder. – SHOW ME THE CHLD!

\- Erik stop it please!

\- SHOW ME MAHTAB!

\- I… I can't…

\- Why? – Erik's tone suddenly changed to a soft, almost whispering madness, which was even more frightening than his yelling before.

\- Because she is asleep.

\- You LIE! – Erik grabbed Christine by the neck, hissing. – It is broad daylight! Where is she? I want to see her!

\- She… she is… not here… - She tried her best to free herself, and she was lucky Erik was weaker than usual, as she was able to get away from Erik. – Disappeared…

\- Disappeared… - Erik stopped with a loud gasp. – Disappeared… dis… - He, without another word, got the nearest object that was close to him, which was the plate with the toast, and threw it towards Christine, who had only enough time to jump away with a scream and shut the door in front of herself. The plate hit the door with a loud clash. It was followed by some other objects and suddenly an even louder clash could be heard. The doorbell rang, but Christine found it a better idea not to try to calm Erik down – she was too much afraid to go inside again. She ran to answer the door, and thanked God for the sight of the doctor standing there with his bag.

\- What is going on? – Doctor Bonsanté arrived just in time for the afternoon visit, and upon hearing the wrecking in the bedroom, he knew it was a huge problem.

\- Erik… found out the truth about Mahtab. – She backed away from the door as the doctor went to open it and warned him to protect his head.

\- Don't worry, just stay here. – He replied as he quickly got in then shut the door.

\- GET OUT, LEECH! – Christine heard Erik's unrecognizable roar, something breaking again, some scrummage and finally a painful cry, by Erik again.

After some minutes the doctor opened the door to inform Christine it was now safe to get in. The room was a chaos. The remaining pieces of the cup and the plate were laying across the floor with some spilled out tea, broken and soggy toast, the mirror on Christine's vanity was broken and Erik's left shoe lay on top of the vanity table among some tumbled down bottles of nail polish, a broken perfume bottle with its contents dripping on the carpet, giving the whole room a too much undiluted flowery scent, and some lipsticks fallen to the ground.

Erik was lifelessly laying on the bed, with his mouth wide open, but eyes closed shut, drooling, snoring and knowing nothing of himself. His shirtsleeve was rolled up and his fingers were unintentionally moving sometimes. His hair was messy and sweat covered his face due to fever and overstraining himself.

\- What the Hell? – Christine asked with astonishment, but slapped her mouth for the profanity.

\- I know he looks alarming, but he is just asleep. I had to give him a very effective tranquillizer drug to be able to stop him from breaking everything, including himself. He is going to sleep for hours.

Christine tried to occupy herself by cleaning the room of the mess Erik had caused, then sat beside his bed, crying. When Erik opened his eyes after six hours of deep sleep, he felt somewhat better physically, but emotionally he felt totally empty.

\- I am sorry. – He said rather monotonously, looking at the crying Christine. – I did not mean to.

\- Do you need anything? – She asked coldly, showing that she was in o mood for keeping up with Erik's mood swings.

\- Pen, ink and paper.

\- What?

\- Pen, ink and paper.

\- What for?

\- Writing.

\- What?

\- A sonata.

\- You are ill, you should not compose.

\- I don't give a damn.

\- Why do you want to compose a sonata, you can hardly sit up.

\- For her. – He closed his eyes, and turned slightly away to wipe some tears off by the sleeve of his shirt. – I want to finish it by the time she returns.

Christine burst out in a painful sob while entering Erik's study to collect the things he asked for. It isn't too good for him right now, but at least he occupies his thoughts and writes. At least his soul calms somewhat. He started working on a piano sonata which got the title "Moonlight of Persia". It had melodies borrowed from the musical experiences Erik had in Persia, sounded magically, but it was simplified enough for the girl's current skills, so she will be able to play it without any problem when she returns home… because she will return. She must… If he did not feel that lousy he would jump into his car and drive along the streets to find her, but he simply felt too exhausted. He was struggling to write it without a break, even though he was tired and in pain. His head throbbed, he had trouble focusing on the sheet music and his hand was painful to lift up, but he just kept writing and writing, page by page. Suddenly, when he finished the first movement, his head turned to the side, and he dropped the pen on the floor. His hand shook a bit then knocked against the carpet, he let out a deep sigh and the paper slipped down from his lap.

Mahtab, even though she wasn't a child who gets scared of her own shadow, soon found out that her plan was a bit of too hectic and abrupt. She left the house without any necessities for such a long way to go. She had only a few centimes in her pockets, and even though she did not know too much about financial issues yet, she realized it was way too little to buy important things. She did not even know which direction to take. Papa taught her how to use a compass, but she did not have one, so she did not even know how to tell where North is. Erik, however also taught her one can use a pocket watch as a compass, but to tell the truth, she forgot that part. She'd need it now. She was tired, hungry and uneasy. Her nerves were calmed a bit, as she stopped crying and cool air made her head clean out. She wasn't even sure if it was a good idea to run away from home, but she was now afraid that Papa died overnight, and did not dare to check if it happened, and to tell the truth, she expected of some very bad punishment if she now just walks home. Will they spank her? It is not a good thing to sleep all alone in a dark corner of a house cellar. She just snuck in a stairwell and hid under the stairs for the night, where she found some old newspapers and curled up in the corner. She did not sleep much as she was scared of every small noise and she missed her home and family so much. There is no Mama to wish her good night with a kiss, no Papa to tell her and the boys a Tale of 1001 nights, here is cold, and she is afraid and alone. She did not really dare to walk openly among other people as she was afraid of hatred she received because of her face. She covered the worst parts of her horrid little face with a huge scarf, but her different colored sunken eyes still weren't too aesthetic sight. Her stomach growled. She reached into her pocket again, checking on the small amount of cash there, but really, it was just 20 centimes. How should she travel to Persia by so little money? Well, she would need a free way to travel. On foot was sure for free, but she was already tired. A cab, a train or a ship, all cost money. Lot of money. She remembered back of a story where Papa talked about a flying carpet. She was sure things like those do exist, but to get them, she has to travel far to the East- exactly where she was going in the first place. Yet… maybe she can find it someway closer as well, and Tonton Mohammed sure knows how to get to Persia from here, so even if she borrows his flying carpet, she still have to ask for directions.

She hid on the back of a carriage to take her a lot closer to Rue de Rivoli. She was lost and too tired to walk. Maybe Tonton Mohammed will give her something to eat as well as she is way too hungry to tolerate it. When she arrived to the house of the Persian and she knocked on the door, Darius was shocked and happy to see her. For Allah above! The Master isn't home. But the child came here to search for him. Don't go away… don't go away!

Darius led Mahtab inside the house and asked her to wait in the drawing room until the Daroga arrives back home. She obediently sat down on the couch and started gobbling up the biscuits and tea Darius had prepared for her. She then fell asleep on the couch after a badly needed supper.

The Daroga arrived home for the night in a bad mood. He was searching Mahtab all day long and still nothing. He once even met Raoul de Chagny, who was also looking for her, but that small thing is sure out of Paris by now. He has to rest for some time and tomorrow… he doesn't know what to do.

\- Master, there is a guest in the drawing room, waiting for you.

\- Oh not now, Darius, please. I am tired, tell them to leave.

\- I think you should take a look at her, you will find out why would it be a bad idea.

\- Oh… well.

The Daroga opened the door with a tired sigh and stepped into the salon, and upon noticing the lost and found child on his couch, he let out an excited and relieved gasp, happily whispering:

\- Moonlight! Oh praise Allah for his miracles!

To tell the truth, he could have spank that child right at that time, for scaring the soul out of her whole family, but the peacefully sleeping and noticeably healthy and safe child melted his heart at the same time. He sat down in the armchair next to the couch to collect his strength before taking the child home where she truly belongs.


	47. Chapter 47

\- Erik! Erik do you hear me? Erik! – Christine's desperate voice filled up the room while she was shaking him violently. He wasn't moving. Seemingly, he wasn't even breathing. Sheet music was all over the floor and Erik was laying lifelessly in the bed. Oh God why did she let him compose and overstrain himself like that? Is he dead? – Erik!

A lot of time passed in fear and worry, as Christine was shaking and slapping Erik endlessly, calling his name without an end, crying over him, then she sorrowfully lay on Erik's chest and sobbed uncontrollably. It ended. All of it is over and they had to part with anger in their hearts. Erik asked for her forgiveness, but she did not say she did forgive, and now Erik had to leave this world with the thought of she was angry with him. One can't know when their last dialogue is playing. If she could change it, she would say good bye to him, kissing his forehead, and Erik would close his eyes smiling…

\- Oh, Erik, if only you could speak once more… - She sobbed.

\- Then… what would happen? – A soft, nearly inaudible voice inquired which Christine did not seem to hear, she just continued her sad speech.

\- I would tell you how much I love you… how much and badly I need you… oh Erik, why did you leave me here…?

\- Christine… I am right here.

Only then she realized her husband was talking to her. She lifted her head up in surprise and saw Erik's eyes open, and he was examining her with a hint of worry. No writer can ever describe the scream of relief, worry, and happiness that left Christine's lips upon noticing Erik was alive.

\- ERIK! Erik dear, you are alive! Oh how you scared me… - She hugged him tight to herself.

\- Christine… - He wheezed. – I am… not alive… for too long… if you keep squeezing my throat.

\- Oh, I am sorry. – Christine let Erik go hurriedly stroking his hair to make him feel better. - Erik… you scared me…

\- I am sorry. – He moaned. – For everything. I hurt you… again.

\- Well… you did. – She nodded. – But I am just glad you are alive. Just… forget it.

\- Mahtab?

\- Still no news. – She sat down on the chair, crying. Erik reached out for his wife's hand and stroke it, showing her some support in the trouble.

\- Erik knows Christine is worried… Mahtab is Christine's child too. She misses her.

\- I do. – She nodded in tears.

\- Erik was cruel to Christine. He hurt her when she already had a huge sorrow in her heart… Erik was selfish, thinking it was only him who lost a child… but Christine lost her child and her husband wasn't supporting her… on the contrary… he attacked her.

\- I admit that it did not feel good. We need to be together in trouble. But… I appreciate the fact you realized this.

\- I love you Christine. – He whispered weakly.

\- I love you too, Erik. – She stroke Erik's rash- covered ugly face kindly and smiled at him through her tears. – Do you need anything? Are you feeling sick?

\- I am tired… oh so tired….

\- Just rest then. – She swallowed back some tears. – Don't worry, everything turns out to be better.

\- Erik only hopes so. Christine…

\- Yes?

\- Please collect the sonata and put it on my nightstand. I will finish it later.

\- Much later. – She raised her finger threateningly. – When you get better.

Erik nodded with an exhausted sigh and turned his head to the side to sleep some more. Christine did not leave the bedside this time so that she won't have to arrive back in the room to a catastrophe happening that they only had the huge fortune to avoid.

He did not sleep well though. Christine had to caress him in his sleep as he kicked or tossed and turned many times, which was a sign of his nightmares that tortured him. Yet he was asleep, he was thinking about Mahtab, and recalled every single detail since her birth… especially the bad things. He remembered his unpleasant feelings about the child's face and how much he hated to look at that horrid small baby skull. Disgust, self-hatred and guilt poisoned the first months of Mahtab's infancy, and they didn't want to go away up until her late toddlerhood when she was finally able to talk to him. He only loves her this much since she is clever. And maybe Mahtab felt it? Did she know that Erik was disgusted of her back then? That he did not really like to hold her? He was missing from most of the activities that involved taking care of her in the first 3 or 4 months. He hardly ever looked at her, only if it was necessary. What had he done…? Can it be that Mahtab subsconsciously remembers this? He has to love her a lot more if ever she gets back home…

Mohammed opened his eyes to see it was already dawning. When he arrived home it was late at night and he just sat down in the chair to rest his eyes a bit. Seems like he had fallen asleep. He nervously turned his head to the side towards the couch to see if Mahtab was still there, and he noticed with delight that the child just sat up as well, yawning and rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

\- Sobh bekheir, Mahtab. – He smiled and stroke the girl's light hair.

\- Sobh bekhier, Tonton Mohammed. – She answered kindly. – I was looking for you.

\- I was doing the same : looking for you through whole Paris. – The Daroga shook his head in dismay.

\- Why?

\- To find you, of course.

\- Who told you I was missing?

\- Your Mama. She was half mad with worry Mahtab. Tell me how could you do such a thing?

\- I did not want to cause any more trouble to my family.

\- And exactly that is how you caused a lot of pain to your parents and also me. Thankfully your common sense returned and you came to my house so I can take you home.

\- Actually I came to you to borrow your flying carpet.

\- My what? – The Persian leaned closer to find out if he heard it right.

\- Flying carpet. Papa told us a story in which they had one. I thought everyone from the East has one.

\- Oh, sadly I don't own one. If I did, I wouldn't have been marching through whole Paris to find you.

\- Then how should I travel to Persia, Tonton?

\- If you listen to me, you won't. At first, your family misses you dearly and wants you home. Secondly: Persia is not the right place for you.

\- Why? You told me it is a beautiful place and Papa said it was magical to live there. I thought I will be moving there so Papa and Mama will live happily without me.

\- It can be beautiful, I admit. But it is dangerous for a girl. You know, women aren't treated so kindly at us.

\- But I am a boy.

\- Oh, Mahtab, your parents know that, but Persians don't. To them, you will only be a girl in men's clothing, and they won't take you seriously. And you will suffer a lot. Both because of you being a girl and… well, Moonlight, you seem to be a mature child. You seem to understand things you are too young for yet, but I guess this talk would have happened sometime soon anyway. I have to tell you a story.

\- About Persia?

\- No, about the past of your Papa.

\- Papa doesn't like to talk about his past. He does not tell me about his childhood.

\- Well, now I will. I tell you all of this to make you stop with your plan that would cause misfortune to both for you and your whole family. Will you listen to me?

\- Yes.

\- And will you promise you give up with this plan and come home to your parents after listening to the story?

\- I do. – She nodded. – I already miss Papa and Mama. And the boys too. And Shadow and M. LeChat.

\- Well, listen up, dear: Your Papa was born with the same face you now have.

\- I know it.

\- And his Mama did not like his face at all. He was suffering a lot in his childhood because his Mama could not love him, and he felt just like you do, that he causes trouble at home. He ran away from home at a young age, he was maybe as old as you, or even younger.

\- He would have needed his Mama to tuck him in and tell him a Good night story.

\- According to him, his Mama never did such a thing. But there were more things he needed: food and new clothes from time to time… Did you find out how hard is it to take care of yourself alone on the streets, Moonlight, hm?

\- Yes. I have only 20 centimes and I was hungry when I arrived here. Monsieur Darius gave me food and drink.

\- Yes, exactly. But just imagine if you have no one to ask food from. You are afraid of other people as well, you know what your Papa must have felt when he started wandering around the world. He had no one to ask, and he still had to eat. What did he do in your opinion?

\- I don't know… he maybe ate berries?

\- I am sure it had happened as well when he was in a forest, but other than that? What do you think, how did he get his necessities?

\- I honestly don't know. – The child shook her head innocently.

\- Mahtab, sadly, your Papa had to take things from other people. – The Daroga lowered his head.

\- My father is not a thief! – Mahtab jumped up from the sofa with a sudden rage. – He would not do such a thing!

\- He had to, Mahtab. He did not have any choice. - The Persian put his hand on Mahtab's shoulder comfortingly to calm her a bit. He pulled the already crying girl on his lap and hugged her. Mahtab held his shirt desperately, not wanting to believe the thing she heard.

\- But Papa is a good person… he is not bad… he isn't…

\- Sssssh! Mahtab, I know your Papa is a nice man. He has changed a lot since he married your Mama and since your birth.

\- Really? – She sniffed, looking up.

\- Yes. – The Persian thought it wasn't a good idea to give a detailed description of Erik's earlier sins, but he had to make sure Mahtab understands why she shall not follow his path, so he continued. – Mahtab, dear, you know, the fact that your Papa was lonely and unloved made him do some bad things in the past. That is why he doesn't like to talk about things before the time he tutored your Mama to be an Opera star. He doesn't like to remember those things as they make him sad. But the thing I want to tell you is that he chose the wrong direction when he run away from home, as it caused him to be lonely and slip deep into sins. If you run away, Mahtab, you don't only make your parents heartbroken, but you will also suffer the same fate Erik did. And believe me, Mahtab, your Papa led a very sad life before his wedding. He was the loneliest and saddest creature I have ever met. Sufferings and hatred made him bitter and lose his all hope and love in his heart for a long time. I am sure he would not want you to suffer through the same life as he loves you so much, with all his heart. I know you feel neglected sometimes. It is normal. But believe me, your father loves you no matter what. It isan older child illness. I know well how you feel. I used to have a brother, younger than me. I sometimes thought my parents love Ali more than they did love me. But it wasn't true. It was just Ali was younger, and small children need more attention and care. Remember when you were a toddler? You needed more caretaking as well. Only since you are a big girl, you are able to take care of yourself and you don't need help with things your brothers still do yet. But this doesn't mean they don't love you. Erik adores and misses you. Don't make the same mistake as your father, Moonlight! Please.

\- I love him too, and miss him. I wish to go home, Tonton. But please come with me. I am afraid they will spank me.

\- Well, if I was your father, now I probably would do so. – He shook his head again and took Mahtab's hand to lead her outside. – But please remember: even beatings, if deserved, are not as bad as wandering alone on the streets without even a franc to spend. Maybe Erik will slap your rear a few times, but you don't have to be afraid of him. He won't be able to hurt you much, as he loves you. He did not beat you much in your life, did he?

\- I think only once. – Mahtab said. – But I don't remember much of it any more.

\- Time makes you forget about punishments. – He reassured her. – But you will always remember the love and support of your family.

As Mohammed- Ismael and Mahtab stopped in front of the enchanting architectural masterpiece of the whole neighborhood, she opened the garden gate with trembling hands and walked slowly towards the front door. The Daroga followed her protectively, to support her emotionally. She knocked on the front door and closed her eyes, expecting the worst to happen.

\- Mahtab! – She heard Christine's nearly hysterical happiness as the door opened, and finally felt her mother hugging her tight. – Mahtab, my sweetie… Oh… Mahtab! – Christine couldn't do anything but cry as she took the child inside in her arms, kissing her endlessly. She kept hugging and kissing the girl, repeating her name over and over.

The bedroom door opened. Erik was standing in the doorway, woken up by the sudden noise, and upon realizing the child finally being home, though he should have felt relief and happiness, the first feeling that took him over was rage. He couldn't control his emotions and no matter how hard he tried to remain calm and concentrate on the positive sides of the happenings, he simply seemed to lose his mind again from so much frustration and worry in his soul and he was about to explode with fury.

Mahtab was scared to see his eyes glowing in a threatening way, she knew her Papa only looked like this when he was extremely mad, and when this happened it was better to stay away from him until he calms down.

\- You damned little brat! – Erik hissed, and staggered a bit closer. – How could you…? How…? Did you make me and your poor mother lose our minds with worry? Huh?

\- Erik… don't hurt her! – Christine hugged Mahtab closer to herself in defense.

\- Stop babying her, Christine! She can't get away with that. Not that easily. – He took a few shaky steps closer, but bent over a bit, hunching from pain.

Even though Mahtab was afraid she would be spanked in a blink of an eye, she was more concerned about how ill Papa looked. He shivered from cold and it was obvious even taking these few steps towards her caused him a lot of pain and exhaustion. She hated to see Papa in pain. She felt sorry for him and it did not even matter to her any more whether she gets some slaps or not, she freed herself of Christine's embrace and walked close to Erik, so that he doesn't have to walk any closer to her to cause pain for himself. She obediently stood in front of him and reached out her hand towards him for a hug.

\- Erik, please count to ten… - Christine begged.

The Daroga waited in the doorway ready to jump at Erik if things go out of control and he harms the child too violently. The girl put her hand on Erik's shoulder and looked him in the eye and softly said:

\- I am sorry Papa. I love you. Please don't be angry.

Erik's lifted up hand froze in the air, as he wanted to pull the child on his lap with great effort to hit her back and rear, and the hand with which he grabbed Mahtab's jacket, made his grip looser. That poor girl loves him still and even wanted to spare him from walking so she came here to receive a beating… what a self-sacrifice from a nine year old child! What an unconditional love is burning in her unspoiled little heart! Should he actually really raise a hand and beat the person who loves him more than anyone in his life ever loved poor Erik?

He slowly released the girl, and instead of a hit, he put his hand on the top of her head, looking her in the eye for some minutes, while her glance gave away so much worry and uneasiness that his heart nearly broke. That look wasn't for her, but his safety. They had a special bond in their hearts for each other, which allowed them to talk without words. However big the love between Erik and Christine was, they still couldn't do this, only Erik and Mahtab. They were talking right at this moment as well, even though the others couldn't hear a single word in the room.

 _"_ _I am worried about you, Papa, you are ill. Please don't die. I will be a good girl, just please don't die._ "

" _Mahtab, dear, I love you... Sorry I spent less time with you. I won't die and we will be together a lot more I promise. I am so glad you are back. I missed you._ "

They then hugged and cried together, Erik was rocking her back and forth on his lap. They cried without a single word, and Mahtab was clinging to Papa's neck, happy to see him again. After much time they spent like this, Erik slowly released the child, stroke her hair and face, then asked her to go and play with the others. Erik then stood up with some painful moans and went back to bed.

\- Erik, may I come in? – The Daroga knocked on the door of the bedroom.

\- Must you? – He moaned tiredly.

\- I have to talk to you.

\- All right… wait until I am finished.

\- Why, what are you doing?

\- That is none of your business… but mine. Oh, you don't even let me piss, you all want something always.

After a few more seconds Erik told the Persian that he may get in if he wanted to. He was already lying in bed, being exhausted of the scene which took place earlier.

\- How are you feeling? – The Daroga inquired.

\- Did you just come in to ask this? – Erik was clearly in no mood for friendly talk, he was tired and in pain, so the Persian found it a better idea to get straight to the point.

\- No. I wanted to tell you that Mahtab wanted to go to Persia.

Nothing but a deep sigh came as an answer.

\- I am sure you won't like the thing I have to inform you about, but…

\- Is there something more? It was bad enough as it is.

\- There is more. In order to make her change her mind I had to tell her a thing.

\- About what?

\- Your past.

Silence. Erik was thinking for some time, then slowly and cautiously asked:

\- How much she knows?

\- Only that you ran away from home presumably in her age and you did not have money and that was which started your career as a criminal.

\- Criminal?!

\- Erik… you can't really name it otherwise.

\- Did you tell her the… things I committed… in Mazandaran?

\- No. Not your murders. She only knows you as a thief.

\- Thank you. – Erik made a face.

\- I had no other choice. I had to tell her why it was a bad thing to run away from home. She thought she causes trouble. She thought it was because of her that you fell ill.

\- It is NONSENSE.

\- You believed the same nonsense as a boy, did you not?

\- How the Hell do you know about it, by the way?

\- Once you talked about it to me. In Persia.

\- I don't remember.

\- You were drunk. I think you did not recognize me either. You were crying about you had been a burden in all your life and you just fled from home to spare your mother from the trouble you cause.

\- And my poor daughter felt the same. – He sighed with tears.

\- Yes.

\- Daroga…? Why…? I know I did not spend too much time with her lately… but can it be she doesn't feel how much I love her? What else should Erik do…? To prove it?

\- You are doing the right thing. I suggest you to praise her more. Other than that, you are doing fine. I did not even imagine you will turn out as a good father as you are. I am proud of you that you did not hit her, despite being so angry.

\- She is such a loving child, I couldn't bear to harm her.

\- Way to go, Erik. Your older self would have hit her badly.

\- I hope to get rid of Erik. The younger Erik I used to hate. Nowadays I don't hate Erik as much as I did. Not half as much

\- Me neither. However I have to admit I never hated you really.

\- Never? Not even a bit, Daroga?

\- Sometimes it would have felt good to slap you. But… I did never wish for your death.

\- This is why you saved me?

\- Yes. And because I was sorry for such talent to be wasted.

\- Well… Erik did not hate you either, no matter what he said. He did not really intend to kill you. You are a special person in his life and he might be angry with you and hurt you sometimes, but he kind of likes you.

\- Erik, please do us a favor and feel better.

\- I try my best. But only if you let me rest. – He laughed shortly.

Thankfully, some days later Erik started to feel better. His fever ceased, and the rash started to disappear. His joints still weren't swollen or painful to touch, so Dr. Bonsanté informed the worrying family that Erik did not develop rheumatic fever. All of them was relieved for the news, and as Erik wasn't contagious any longer, he could hug and kiss his children all he wanted. And he also could get back to writing the sonata for Mahtab. He did not work too much at once so that he did not overstrain himself, but the sonata was completed in a week.

\- Look here, my sweetie. – Erik put the sheet music on the piano and called Mahtab to himself.

\- What is this? – She asked curiously.

\- This is for you. Only for you.

\- But it is a sonata and I can't play it because I am not that good. – She looked at Erik with sad expression.

\- It is perfect for you, believe me. Just try.

\- What if I ruin it? – She asked worriedly.

\- You won't. – He patted her head encouragingly. – But even if you do, it is not a problem. Not everything has to be perfect every time.

\- You said earlier that only perfection has some value.

\- Papa says silly things sometimes as well. Dear, you don't have to take everything seriously what Papa says. Only that matters that you do your best to complete your tasksAnd this music is absolutely for your current skills, you can play it. Please try.

Mahtab nodded and turned to the keyboard to play. She was surprised her fingers did not twist or slip, so she had no problem playing any of the trills or triads. It was a simple but heartwarming music. She ended up playing all three movements by first reading, without any mistakes. She happily jumped in Erik's neck after finishing it, and kissed her father's cheeks.

\- I wrote it for you and I knew you can play it. You are such a talented and awesome child dear. I can't live without you.

\- So you don't love Flo more because he is better at music?

\- But of course, not. – Erik sat down to the sofa, and lifted Mahtab up on his lap, which he did not do for a while since Mahtab grew bigger and noticeably heavier. – I love all of you equally, but I love each of you for something else. Each of you have talent in other fiels. You have talent in many things. Flo can't draw. You can, beautifully. You are not as good at music, but you are better at something else and this is how it was meant to be. God created everyone with other talents.

\- But you and Mama can do anything you want to.

\- Oh no no no. – Erik laughed. – Not anything. For example I can't write.

\- But you can.

\- It is unreadable. – Erik explained. – It looks like a child's scribbling. No one can read it, sometimes not even I. I can draw and write sheet music, but my cursive is horrible.

\- Really?

\- Yes. That is why Mama taught you to write and not me. I can't form the letters right. It is just something I can't figure out.

\- But Mama knows everything?

\- Well, do you want to hear a secret? – Erik leaned closer to Mahtab's ear to whisper. – But you don't tell it to anyone.

\- My lips are sealed. – She nodded seriously.

\- Mama is an opera star and sings like an angel. She can sew and knit and embroider like an artist… but… why do you think Papa cooks, hm?

\- Because Mama is at work at the Opera and she has no time?

\- Partly yes. But… well… Mama is an awful cook. – He admitted ashamedly, because he had to say something bad about Christine.

\- Can't Mama cook? – She asked with astonishment.

\- No. – He replied. – Either it has too much or too little salt, or she burns it or she doesn't cook it for enough time… or it gets too dry… I don't know how she manages to ruin literally every meal she touches, but it is true. Once, before your birth, she baked me a cake. It had salt instead of sugar and it was nearly burnt.

\- Did you eat it? – She wondered.

\- Yes, as I did not want to hurt her. – He admitted. – I got a nice indigestion out of that little adventure. But despite her lack of knowledge and talent for cooking I still adore her more than anything and wouldn't trade her for all the treasures on Earth. I rather cook myself, as I was a bachelor for a long time, it is no problem. See? Everyone has their talents and weak spots, but as long as you work and do your best, you are not worthless. You have to focus on the things you are good at – and if you really want to play music, it requires harder work for you than for Flo as you have no equal talents. Yes, it is not righteous – but very few things are righteous in life, my child.

\- Thank you so much for making it possible for me to play without mistakes, Papa. It made me happy.

\- That's what for fathers are, Mahtab – to make their children happy.

He kissed her forehead and hugged her close to himself as she was sitting on his lap. As he was thinking about his children, he had to face the truth that he wasn't right about telling Mahtab he loved his children equally. He just had to admit to himself he DID have a favorite child, even though he wasn't a fan of favoritism, but he couldn't help it.

It was Mahtab.


	48. Chapter 48

After Erik recovered fully and everyone was healthy and happy in his family, life slowly got back in its normal flow. Christine sang at the Opera, Erik took care of the children, there were singing lessons, Erik took Flo to school and Noel for car rides, and taught him magic tricks. But instead of the music lessons between only Erik and Florian, they became trios with Erik, Mahtab and Florian. Mahtab received a sheet music always designed for her skills, and she, slowly but steady, got better and better. Flo was a cute little guy and encouraged his sister a lot.

\- It was fantastic, Mahtab, I am proud of you. – He praised her just the exact way Papa praised him, so Matab's self-confidence about music started to return.

Erik also wanted to spend more alone time with Mahtab, as both him and her missed it dearly, and he felt guilty about Mahtab's thoughts and runaway. He had a sudden idea about how he could spend a lot more time with her. She doesn't have to go to school, so she is able to help him with the house he bought in Perros. They have to renew the house until summer to be able to go there for 2-3 weeks again. But that house wasn't in the best condition, it was old and a bit of neglected. For himself alone, it was a lot of work, but for two people, it was considerably less effort. Mahtab was a handy and strong child, and she wanted to help him always. They went by car in weekends, they departed in Saturday morning and returned Sunday afternoon, so that Flo and Noel were with Christine. Noel did not really like the fact that Papa took Mahtab in the car instead of him, so this fact resulted in some tantrums Christine had to deal with, but other than that, she loved to spend time with her sons. Flo loved to sing with her as well, and Christine taught him how to dance like a gentleman. In a few hours' time Flo was able to dance waltz and minuet just like a small cavalier.

Noel was harder to occupy, as he liked too wild things for Christine's taste. Everything that burned, exploded or banged were his favorite things, but he did not like milder activities too much. He enjoyed music, but it did not occupy him for hours as it did satisfy Flo. Noel was hyperactive and dangerous. How many times Erik had to slap his hand because he was playing with the matches! And no matter where did they hide it, he always found it. Even at the top of the highest shelf he would climb and jump down with his favorite toy. He played real war with toy soldiers shooting real burning matches. This was the second time Erik ever spanked a child, as Noel succeeding in setting the children's room carpet on fire in no time, then screamed for help upon realizing suddenly there were too high flames. After putting out the fire and asking Noel about how it started, Erik could not help, but laying the boy across his knees and hit him a few times, threatening him if it ever happens again, he will get more. Erik wasn't too proud of himself for it, but at least it did work out. Noel did not try to light a fire by himself any more after the beating. Erik remarked that this boy really reminded him of himself as a boy, only with normal features.

\- I am not even sure anymore that I was such a little devil because of my devil's face. – He wondered. – Can it be it was just my real temper? As Mahtab, despite having devil's little face, is really an angel, but this kid is hammering nails into my coffin, yet he looks like Mr. Prince Charming.

"Prince Charming" was yet a bit of an exaggeration. Noel wasn't really a fluffy and huggable child as he grew, he became somewhat bony and his cheeks were resembling the angularity of Erik's. He wasn't skeletal, but kind of thin, pale, and had a small figure. Mahtab was taller than her age, Flo was just about the usual height of his age, and was a bit of chubby, but Noel was shorter than ideal, and he looked like he was getting ill easily, even though his health did not indicate such a thing. He was just seemingly fragile and it made Christine worry. She took Noel to be checked by the doctor a lot more than she ever did any other of her children. The doctor always calmed her that Noel was in a good health, but it just wasn't calming enough for Christine. She wanted to make Noel stronger by feeding him cod-liver oil, which, thanks to Noel's inventiveness, always ended up in either the dirt of potted plants in the house, or in the toilet. No way will he ever swallow that rubbish.

Mahtab and her father were happily renovating the house in Perros. She was proud that she was helping Papa with job that only grown up people were normally doing. Even though she was yet nine years old, Erik explained her the basics of putting on wallpaper, putting down floor tiles, helping Erik with building a loft with stairs in the main room (the house was too small for separate bedrooms for everyone so Erik designed a loft on which the children will be able to sleep and play during the vacation), changing window glasses, and plumbing. The only thing Mahtab wasn't yet allowed to mess with was gas, it being too dangerous for such a young person. They talked a lot during these days and some of the girl's questions weren't expected at all.

\- Papa, what does it mean if someone is castrated?

\- What? – Erik nearly dropped the plier out of his left, upon looking back at Mahtab.

\- Castrated. I read it in a book.

\- Oh… well, you know that men have deeper voice than girls. – He started with hesitation, not knowing how much to actually tell.

\- Yes. – She nodded.

\- And young boys are able to sing soprano. – Erik continued.

\- Yes.

\- And well, when their voice would start to change to the deeper… there is a special kind of surgery for them so that their voice remains high- pitched and they are able to sing soprano even in their adulthood. That surgery is called castration.

\- You can sing soprano as well. – She stated. – Did it hurt?

\- Mahtab I did not have that surgery.

\- You had one a few years back.

\- They took out my TONSILS. The part we are talking about is… somewhere else….

\- Where?

\- I am not telling.

\- Can I be castrated too so my voice isn't going to change?

\- Mahtab, your voice won't be deep. You are a girl.

\- But just to make sure.

\- You don't HAVE that body part at all.

\- God, it's missing?

\- It should.

\- But how can you sing soprano? Are you sure you did not have that surgery?

\- I am, as if I did, you three would not exist. The technique can be learned as well, that's how I can. But not many people can learn it.

Thankfully Mahtab stopped asking questions, and Erik started to wonder if it is really a good idea to let her browse through his books so freely, without any limitations. He read everything as well when he was a boy, but Mahtab is a girl after all, and she really should not read about things that aren't for her gender and age. He shall be more careful about which book she gets between her skeletal fingers. He did not blame her for asking though. He nearly chuckled, as when he found out about that surgery in his teens, and his mutating voice was bothering him to no end, he was actually thinking how good it would be to have it performed on him, so that he won't lose the only beautiful thing in him: his clear soprano voice. He did not yet know that his adult voice will be even more pleasant.

One evening, while the family was having dinner together in Paris, suddenly the doorbell rang. It was usually Christine who answered the door, as Erik wasn't wearing his mask at home, and he needed time to put on his face, if it was actually him they were looking for, but it hardly ever happened. Erik just sat at the table, asking Flo to use his knife and fork instead of eating by his hands.

\- No girl will ever date you without manners.

\- Yet I will get married. – Flo lifted up the fork and tried to use it as Papa showed him.

\- Yes, you will. – Erik nodded.

\- I will marry Sophie. – He stated.

\- Good, son, but marriage always needs two. – Erik smiled.

\- Well, then I will marry Annabelle too. – Flo exclaimed happily.

\- It is not allowed to have more than one wife at a time in France. – Erik chuckled.

\- Then I move to Persia and marry everyone. – Flo found a solution right away.

\- Oh, I am sure you will have the biggest harem there. – Erik shook his head with a short laugh.

Christine arrived back and informed Erik that the visitor is looking for him.

\- Me? – He asked with surprise.

\- Yes, I led him to the drawing room and asked him to be patient for some moments.

\- Who that might be? – Erik stood up. – Should I put on the mask or it is just the Daroga?

\- Not the Daroga, it is a stranger to me. Here is his card. – Christine handed Erik the visitor's card that said "Gustave Eiffel."

\- Uh… well, I am back in a few minutes. Just keep on eating. I am sorry.

Erik disappeared to his study for some seconds to put on his human mask, and walked to the drawing room to have some talk with him.

Christine, of course, was curious as always. What these two people have to talk about? She, even though it was impolite, HAD TO find out what Eiffel and Erik are up to. Eiffel was a famous architect, and since he succeeded in building up the huge tower at the bank of the Seine, he was a much appreciated and respected person in all Paris. She told the children to stay at the table and eat, and she just snuck out to listen at the drawing room door.

\- Once again, I would like to thank you for your cooperation, and your endless patience, Monsieur Spöke. I know I had a huge delay with payments, but…

\- Please, my friend, don't feel obliged to apologize. I know how these issues work, having spent many years in building industry. – Erik replied calmly.

\- You are a good person, and without you, our project wouldn't have became successful.

\- It just HAD to be built. – Erik stated.

\- I just don't understand why you not want your name to be written on the tower, along with the other people who had helped the building.

\- I did not do it for fame, Gustave. – Erik said softly. – The important thing is the tower is built, despite the huge scandal around it in the beginning.

\- I don't know how to say thank you. 4.2 million francs to lend is not a minor thing and I just don't know how to repay you.

\- You already did, with this last payment, and the tower. Every time I pass it, my heart beats faster. – Erik's beautiful voice was filled with passion.

\- Are you sure there is nothing I could help you with?

\- No, my friend. I am already retired, so I don't need favors. I am glad I could help.

\- God bless you, Erik. – The other man's voice sounded to be as touched as possible. – Thank you again for your help. I will be thankful for your help in all my life. Not only the money, however much it was, but your support meant a lot more sometimes.

\- I know. – Erik replied.

Christine could not concentrate on the other sentences of the two people's conversation and just hurried to their bedroom to think.

Erik lent money to Monsieur Eiffel? More than 4 million francs? How on Earth did he have that much money? Christine started to have a bad feeling about this all. As she later found out, Erik was blackmailing 20 000 francs from the managers at the Opera House. She did not know how much money he actually had from that, but 4 million is a way more than she could imagine. How? Is Erik into something illegal? She was thinking, burying her face into her hands as she sat in front of the already repaired vanity table. If her husband is a thief still, what should she do?

The door opened behind her. She heard Erik entering the room and closed the door behind himself.

\- What is wrong? Are you feeling ill? – He sounded worried. – You are here for hours. The children are already in bed.

\- I am fine. – She answered shortly and coldly.

\- Uh oh. – Erik sighed. – Well, now what is our mini drama about? I know that voice. Fight is coming.

\- Erik, I want answers for my questions.

\- Ask away. What questions?

\- How can you lend 4 million francs to someone?

\- Not someone, but Gustave Eiffel. He is not just a random "someone".

\- You missed my point. How is that possible you lend him 4 million francs?

\- Exactly 4 million 200 thousand francs and I also invited him for a coffee. – He remarked. – By the way I did not take any of your money. I paid it from my own. And besides, isn't it impolite to listen to conversations you are not involved in?

\- Where did that money come from? – She slammed the hairbrush down in front of herself to ease her frustration. – How blind I was! Did I not realize how you literally are throwing money about…? The luxury in this house… how can we have a marble bath?

\- Christine, the house is under a roof for 13 years. It is just about time to ask how I managed to economize its building out. – Erik laughed sarcastically.

\- From what money did you buy that damned car?

\- Stop it.

\- Erik, you are stealing money from somewhere or….?

\- Thank you for the kind words. I am sleeping in my study tonight. – Erik jumped up from the bedside, but Christine grabbed his arm as she hurried after him and pulled him back to the bed then pushed him back in a sitting position.

\- You are not leaving until I know about your financial matters. Are you still blackmailing the managers?

\- No. – Erik answered simply. – And all the money I owed them, I did repay when you left with the boy! Leave me alone!

\- Then where is it from?

\- It is my own money and you have nothing to do with it. We don't even lack of it anymore as Eiffel just repaid all his debts.

\- Erik, I ask for one last time. If you don't answer, I pack my clothes and move away from here with the children!

A long pause followed Christine's angry sentences, then just as Christine put her suitcase off of the top of the dresser to pack things in it, Erik stated annoyedly.

\- All right, follow me!

\- Where? – She turned to him in a sudden interest.

\- To my study.

Christine followed Erik curiously, now her anger started to fade as she was about to face some secret. Erik knelt down next to the bookshelf and pulled out a fake book from it, which caused the shelf slide away by a few centimeters, revealing a nail in the wall. Erik pressed it, and a small piece of the wall covering wood came off so Erik had enough room to reach into the wall. He pulled out a small wooden chest with a padlock on it. He then walked to the other end of the room where he kept a coat of his that he used rarely, and reached into its pocket for the padlock's key. As he opened the chest and carried it to Christine, the woman was speechless by its contents. Its drawer contained money in an envelope, but the majority of the contents were jewels of the most different kinds. Rings, earrings, bracelets, and precious stones.

\- Where did you get these from? – She gasped.

\- Persia and Turkey. The money is from Eiffel.

\- How did you get so many treasures?

\- It is not even half of what I had earlier. The house took a lot from these. I simply sold them.

\- But… why did you hide them so carefully? Why did I not know about them?

\- As if you have known it, I would not have anything to hide any more.

\- What am I, a thief? – She groaned.

\- Of course, not. But if you know I have these, you… well, Christine, please admit that you like to spend money a lot. By the end of the month you ask money from me always, even though you have full control over your salary and my superannuation allowance as well.

\- True. – She lowered her head.

\- I keep this as an ace in the hole, to be able to use it if badly needed. I admit that I spent some of it for the car, but I kept the rest. It is for the future of the children. University is a pricy thing, Christine.

\- I see now. I promise not to spend a centime of it. But please tell me why did you give money to Eiffel?

\- To have the tower built.

\- How did you get involved in this? It was built after your retirement.

\- Not exactly. I got in the project a year before Mahtab's birth.

\- Eiffel owed you money for nearly 10 years?

\- Yes.

\- Please continue. What has happened?

\- Back in 1884, Gustave Eiffel came up with the idea of the tower. In 1886, it was finally accepted, but many people, even Garnier signed a petition against it. Eiffel sent out some desperate letters and advertisements to all the people he knew were into architecture, and he found a name in Garnier's staff: Erik Spöke.

\- So he found you?

\- He was utterly desperate. Paris did not wish to have this building. They told him I used to be Garnier's right hand while the Opera Construction, so he searched for me, and showed me the design of the tower. I fell in love with the plans right away, you see. And the fact that both Barcelona and Paris did not want it, just made my enthusiasm the bigger about the project. This beauty was called "ugly", Christine. Do you hear me…? Ugly… As it wasn't a construction ordered by government, but Eiffel had to build it by his own charge, made Eiffel to be more sympathetic to me. Oh, Christine, if the world had more architects like him, it would definitely be a better place. Only God knows how much money I did spend on the Opera during the construction… and Eiffel just did the same.

\- Only one problem was that he lacked money. – Christine nodded understandingly.

\- Not exactly. He did have the same amount of money I had. We shared the charges in 50-50%, but neither of us could do it all alone, so we did it together. Despite of all the hatred and scandal that poor fellow received on his beautiful and enchanting plans and unique idea, the tower is built. And it will be there forever. And I am proud I could help. I admit, I used our money for my own fun, but in the end, Eiffel did repay each centimes. And I did it for Paris. Already the second time in my life. I gave an Opera House and I now I give half of the tower.

\- It is all good now I know about it, but why didn't you tell me?

\- Because of all the hatred that poor building received. I did not want you to yell at me for supporting a dead project. Christine, in the first two years it seemed like I will never see that money back. I was fed up with your aria that goes like "You have spent our family wealth on a tower that was never built!" in advance. If I was to lose that money, it would be better if you never knew that it existed at all.

\- In a way you are right. – Christine admitted. – But only one more question you have to answer.

\- Ask.

\- Why did you need the 20 000 francs at the Opera if you had these jewels?

\- Because of the same reason as I don't spend them now: I always considered these to be the last possibility to turn to. And well… I am ashamed to admit that I really liked how they freaked out by my notes. I see the wrong in my actions now, but back then I was so desperate for some attention, that even if it was negative attention, I loved it. Just as in my childhood. Erik was a bad child so that mother will beat and punish him, Christine… even during a beating… she was paying attention to Erik.

\- God…

\- Don't feel sorry for me. I hate it.

\- I am sorry Erik. And also, I am sorry for the things I have said.

\- I am not angry. – Erik informed her while closing the chest and outing it back on its place. – But I would rather sleep here tonight still.

\- Are you sure? – Christine asked with guilt.

\- Yes. No harm done, just… still.

\- Then good night Erik. – She left the room with a sad expression and closed the door behind her.

Erik sat down to his desk, put a piece of paper in front of himself and doodled the Eiffel tower up until he fell asleep laying across his desk. When he woke up and lifted his head up, he noticed a cup of hot coffee in front of him with a small note with Christine's beautiful writing:

 _To my sweet husband,_

 _No money or treasures can ever replace the biggest treasure which is beating in your own chest. That much love and devotion can turn the world to a better place. Stay as you are, I love you just like this._

 _Love with all my heart, your wife who loves you till the end of the days,_

Here came a five –lined, one measure long sheet music which contained the notes: _C, D, A, A, E._


	49. Chapter 49

The renovation and Erik's plans she could examine really moved Mahtab's imagination. She loved to think about buildings and she got more and more fascinated by Erik's architectural books and albums. She had never seen so beautiful things in her life. Papa really had so interesting books which even included blueprints of famous architectural masterpieces and Erik's nearly unreadable notes on the edges of the pages. Mahtab had no difficulties in reading Erik's handwriting, so she started to learn new words day by day, without even her father noticing it. She did not have clue about proportion regarding buildings, but she already knew how to draw structural designs, so she thought it could work the same way with house plans as well, so she started drawing a design she loved so much, looking at other plans for inspiration and model.

\- What are you up to? – Erik approached her, noticing she was busy with drawing something.

\- I am planning a house for Shadow.

\- Shadow already has a house, all of the rooms are his. The thing even climbed in MY bed, but he will never do it again. – Erik remarked grumpily.

\- No, he needs a dog house.

\- But dog houses are the same always, why do you need to plan it?

\- Because Shadow deserves something better. He is my friend and you don't just throw him a hutch created out of some rotten planks.

\- Whoa. – Erik's jaw dropped. – You start to become just as sarcastic as someone I know. Well, you are right, Shadow is a good old boy, and he deserves something nice. And…? What did you come up with?

Erik took the drawing from Mahtab and he instantly burst out in a laughter.

\- What are you laughing at? – She crossed her arms on her chest.

\- Why do you design a broach and a clock on a doghouse?

\- So that he can look at it, and know what the time is.

\- He has a better watch than you do. His stomach always tells the time, and it is never wrong.

\- But it would look nice.

\- Mahtab I am not going to build a clockwork on a doghouse, no matter what you say.

\- If you don't help I can do it myself and you will see it will be better than what you would do! – She retorted with hurt. This was the first time she and Erik did not agree with something and Erik clearly thought Mahtab's idea was nonsense. This fact hurt her feelings, and she was just like Erik in a way – if she got hurt, she took revenge.

\- Really? – Erik leaned closer.

\- Really. I don't need you.

\- Well, don't even come to me, whining, then, if it collapses.

\- I won't. And it won't collapse.

\- You are such a skilled and experienced architect my child. – He remarked with a hint of irony.

\- Better than you. – She stomped her foot against the floor and walked away.

\- Impudent puppy. – Erik grunted to himself, waving in the air.

Mahtab was indeed a stubborn little thing, just as Erik. She started working on the doghouse, getting some wood from Erik's penthouse, and some paint as well. She had trouble building the broach. Maybe it is a hard work but she will show Papa that she is capable of it. Some of the planks had fallen on her head during the construction a few times, but she did not give up. In a few days, the dog house was built. It wasn't perfect, but it resembled the plans at least, and Mahtab only needed the clock on it and to paint it. She found it a good idea to just carry the clock out of the bedroom. They have so many clocks and watches and one can easily be sacrificed for the sake of Shadow having an own clock on his house.

\- Where exactly you think you are going with that clock? – Erik questioned her upon noticing what she held under her arm.

\- I am going to put it on my masterpiece.

\- Have you lost your mind, my sweet child? – Erik grabbed the clock out of her hands and angrily carried it back to its place. – By dissembling a working clock, even fools can make up clockworks. If you really are better than me, do it yourself.

\- You are very jealous.

\- No, I just don't appreciate if my youngsters destroy my property for the sake of giving it to an animal, who can't use it for anything. Have some common sense!

Mahtab walked away again, seemingly being even more hurt. She did not understand why Papa does not support her with her plan. Does he not like Shadow? Is she not talented enough?

One morning, Christine carried inside the letters and found an envelope addressed to Erik.

\- Erik, you have mail.

\- Who sent it? – He asked with surprise.

\- Charles Garnier.

\- I don't care. – Erik turned his head away in frustration and dismissed the letter that Christine wanted to give him.

\- Why? He is your friend.

\- Was.

\- Why the past tense? – She wanted to make sure she heard it right.

\- Because we are not friends anymore. – Erik stated as a matter-of-factly tone.

\- But you built the Opera together.

\- It was back then, and now it is now.

\- Did you… have a fight or why are you so angry with him?

\- We could say we did, yes.

\- About what?

\- It hardly matters anymore.

\- But what if he wants to apologize?

\- I don't think so. I think he just returned to Paris, saw the tower, and he starts the fuss over. I am not curious about it.

\- Erik, please let me at least read it out loud.

\- Must you torture Erik?

\- I will read it at first and if it is what you think, I won't read it to you. Fine?

\- It doesn't matter if it is fine with me, you already have decided. – Erik sighed.

\- It is not good to hold grudges. – She stated kindly while opening the envelope. After some silence, Erik heard the following words spoken by Christine's enchanting angelic voice:

 _Dear Erik,_

 _I have just returned to the city, and upon realizing the construction had finished during my absence, I must admit: You were right, and I was wrong._

 _You know me, Erik. You know I don't easily admit that I am wrong – but now I was. You see, maybe that is why we had arguments from time to time- we both are too stubborn. If you allow me, I would like to meet you in person once more to apologize for my earlier words in a sudden outrage I am still ashamed of._

 _If you wish to talk to me, give me a time and place, and I am attending then and there, to talk._

 _Your penitent and most humble servant,_

 _C. Garnier_

Erik was sitting in his chair for a few minutes, then sighed.

\- Give me a cigar, please.

\- The doctor warned you that you start to smoke too much.

\- If a cigar in two weeks is too much then yes.

\- You are going to ruin your voice.

\- It is too enchanting and hypnotizing, if I don't ruin it a bit, all the women will climb me like a tree. – Erik frowned, then stood up to go and get a cigar for himself if Christine did not have the kindness to move her little bottom to get it for him.

\- What do you answer to Garnier? – She demanded a reply.

\- Write him that I meet him in front of the Opera on Sunday at 8 in the evening. And as he likes to be late from every meeting, write him that I only wait for 15 minutes and return home if he won't show up. – He groaned.

As he was waiting in front of the Opera, he was walking up and down, letting out loud and irritated sighs. It wasn't even 8' o clock yet, he arrived first. He held a cigar between his fingers but he was just sometimes sucking on its end, he did not light it yet. He wasn't even sure if it was a good idea to get there. He, at least did show up. Five minutes after eight a cab stopped in front of the Opera and a man slowly climbed out of it. Who the Hell is this…? He just realized a few seconds later that it was Garnier. Only his hair gave it away, as neither his face nor his build was recognizable. Long time, no see… and well, Charles clearly wasn't a young man any more. He was already 70 if he remembered correctly… what a strange thing he always remembered Garnier in his form he was when they worked at the Opera… he aged a lot even since their last encounter when they had that fight back in 1886.

\- Erik, my old friend. – He greeted, with an unusual kindness.

\- Good evening, Charles. – Erik really wanted to be cold towards him, but he simply couldn't bear himself to be any more. What the Hell is happening to him lately? Did he at last, turn out to be a kind man or what?

\- I am glad you were willing to talk to me. I know you were hurt by my words and…

\- Well, calling the tower "just as damned ugly as me." Really did not lift my spirits. – Erik remarked.

\- I know. I felt sorry about my sentence right away when it left my lips. But you know… I was too stubborn and angry to apologize at that moment.

\- It was a crazy night, we both said things we did regret later. I did not mean to call you talentless either. You were the only architect I actually liked to work with.

\- Other than Eiffel…?

\- I did not work actively with him. I only helped his project with funds. I am already an old man, I am not well enough to actively work at a construction.

\- Erik, you are younger than me. You are not even 70 yet. – Garnier laughed.

\- I had lived up to my 63rd Birthday this February. – He shrugged. – But raising 3 young and too lively children does wear me out.

\- Do you have more children? When we met for the last time you had a toddler girl.

\- That toddler is turning ten in November. – Erik chuckled. – And she received two younger brothers throughout the years.

\- Oh, that absolutely sounds fantastic. And did any of them inherit some architectural interest?

\- The girl. – Erik nodded with pride. – She is a mini designer.

\- Well, if any of your children need assistance in the future, let me know. You have helped me a lot in the past, and I am so ashamed of betraying you. In the end, I have to agree with you. That tower looks way better in real life than the designs. You know… I was afraid it would ruin the landscape of Paris… and yet it only adds to it. Indeed, you haven't lost your mind as I believed.

\- Thank you.

\- I would like to apologize about my insults.

\- It is accepted. And please accept mines. – Erik returned Garnier's handshake and after some more talk, he helped the old fellow back in a cab and he got back in his vehicle to get home.

On the way home, he had been thinking. The argument between him and Garnier was actually similar to the one between him and Mahtab the other day. He found Mahtab's plan just as a nonsense as Garnier had found the tower's idea a nonsense. If Garnier, the famous and respected architect, was able to admit he was wrong, what is stopping him to apologize to a child?

When Mahtab woke up the next morning, she had found a completed doghouse in the garden instead of her miserable attempt. It was built according to her plans, containing a broach and a clock as well, even though Erik wanted to make a compromise by it being a painted clock face on a round piece of wood.

\- Papa! – She exclaimed happily, running to Erik, jumping in his arms.

\- I am sorry Mahtab. You had been right the whole time. It looks fantastic.

\- Do you really think so? – She kissed Erik.

\- I mean every word. – He nodded. – Well, let's show it to Shadow, let's see if he is happy about having such a nice house.

Mahtab ran away excitedly to search for the dog. She was calling him joyfully, but despite his habit he did not show up.

\- Shadow! – She called out impatiently. – Come now! – She whistled a few times, but the dog did not run to her.

Finally she found him, laying in the backyard, near the stone fence. She called out several times, but Shadow was sleeping too deep.

\- Come here, you lazy dog! You have a new house!

She got tired of Shadow's apathy and walked closer to him, poking him with her long finger. The animal did not move. She opened her mouth and gasped in a sudden realization and ran to Erik in tears.

\- Papa… Papa please help Shadow… he won't get up… he WON'T…

Erik slowly approached the black furry friend and told some encouraging words to him while kneeling down next to it, but it was apparent that the poor thing heard nothing any more. He caressed his fur a few times while crying. Mahtab hugged Erik's neck, sobbing hard. Erik tried his best to comfort her, yet he knew well that it was not much he could do in this situation. It was to be expected though. Shadow was with them for the past eight years, and no one knew how old he was back then, but clearly an adult. He might easily have been more than ten years old, which meant he had spent his time on Earth.

He only hoped that time will heal Mahtab's wounds in her heart.


	50. Chapter 50

Shadow's funeral took place in the backyard, with the whole family attending. Everyone was crying. Shadow was a good family dog, and Erik had to admit, he also missed him dearly, even though he always stated he loved cats much more than dogs, and Monsieur LeChat was his more preferred companion since they owned a cat as well. Erik dug the faithful family member's grave under a huge tree that will give him some shadow in hot summer days, so he will have a good place to sleep forever. The funeral was nearly as if they were burying a human being, and when Erik adjusted the dirt on the grave, he murmured softly:

\- Sleep well, old boy. We loved you.

Mahtab and he carved a mark for the grave which said:

"R.I.P. _Shadow, the best and most loving dog ever. Lived more than 8 years. We miss you._ "

Everyone in the house was noticeably a lot quieter and more gloomy than usual. Erik was missing his old friend who would lay under his feet while he read a book or the newspaper, and was indescribably happy by a stroke of Erik's bony hand, Noel missed his horsey friend, Mahtab missed her huge furry pal who would always lick sugar off of her hands, and Flo did not have a companion to listen to his violin playing any more. Shadow would sometimes sing with him. He loved that and called Shadow a clever boy for it. Christine just sat on the sofa, looking outside of the window and wept. Erik comfortingly rubbed her shoulders to support her emotionally, and tried to talk about more pleasant things, but the wife noticed that his eyes were full of tears as well. Florian tried to occupy and comfort himself with the presence of the musician cat, as he often referred to M. Jean – Pierre. He would pet and kiss him, and the cat was purring for him, giving him the impression he was playing some kind of music again. He would carry him in his arms from room to room, calling him "friend" or "fellow" mostly, serving him milk or cream as a treat. The cat grew to love Flo a lot, so the cat now had two favorite people in the family. The father and the boy.

Mahtab was feeling uneasy, especially in the evenings. Even though she was sleeping in the same room with the two boys, she felt lonely and needed some comfort. She was thinking a lot about someone falling asleep and never waking up again. It was the first time she met death in person. She heard that Geneviéve, her Grandma died some time ago, but as she never met her, she did not miss her at all. She hugged her blanket close to herself and closed her eyes, but anytime she wanted to fall asleep, she was afraid she will never wake up again. Shadow looked like if he was just sleeping at first, but after she had to find out that it was way more than that. Mama and Papa are sleeping as well, everyone else is sleeping but her. Papa is old. He says so. Old people and animals die. This is the way it should be. What if Papa never wakes up again?

She jumped out of bed, ran through the dark hall to her parents' bedroom, and opened the door. Erik was snoring a bit, just as always. Fine, at least he isn't sleeping too deep. She walked to the footboard of the huge double Louis Philippe bed and climbed through it to arrive right on Erik's feet. She did not consider her father was taller than her and she did not think Papa's feet actually did reach that far, she wanted to land on an empty spot. Erik woke up with a groan, feeling the child's weight, but he already saw those mismatched eyes getting closer and closer as Mahtab crawled to him in bed.

\- What is wrong? – Erik yawned.

\- I am afraid.

\- Of what?

\- Passing away. – She admitted.

\- You are so young yet. – Erik stroke her hair. – You don't have to be afraid of it. Children like you rarely die.

\- Not exactly me. – She went on. – Rather older people here.

\- So, me? – Erik looked at her worriedly.

Mahtab only nodded slowly then crawled closer to her father, hugging him. Erik started massaging her back to make her feel better. He knew well that Mahtab's fear actually had a reason. He was an old man, and he knew that he wasn't immortal either. He was lucky enough to survive the scarlet fever. The girl buried her face deep in his sleep shirt, and Erik was rubbing her ear with his thumb.

\- May I sleep with you and Mama? – Mahtab's muffled voice came.

Even though Erik thought Mahtab was already too old for that, and he did not even allow the children to sleep between him and Christine in their toddlerhood, he did not have the heart to send a worrying and uneasy child back to the other end of the hall, so he quietly agreed.

\- But only for tonight.

He covered her up with his blanket and hugged her close to himself, then took a quick glance at his pocket watch on the night table.

\- Sleep now, Mahtab, it is only 3 in the morning.

The girl lay her head on Erik's chest and fell asleep, feeling safe with Papa.

The next morning found them waking up together. Christine was happy to find her daughter between her and Erik, and happily kissed her forehead to greet her. Mahtab was happy to sleep with her parents and Erik liked the girl's presence as well, yet he whispered in Christine's ear not to encourage her to sleep with them too much, Later, when everyone did her morning routine and while Erik was making breakfast, Mahtab walked to Christine, who was busy doing her hair and asked:

\- Mama… is it true that if someone dies, they go to Heaven?

\- Yes dear, depending if they were good or bad person.

\- Mama…did Shadow go to Heaven?

\- He was a good boy. – Christine nodded sadly. She did not want to tell the poor little girl that animals, according to religion, have no souls. She, to be honest, did not fully agree with this statement anyways.

She finished doing her hair, and took the girl's hand to walk in the dining room. Erik was busy making pancakes. Mahtab was happy about the smell of the delicious breakfast, but the matters of afterlife still were bothering her.

\- Is Grandpa and Grandma in Heaven too?

\- Yes dear, I am sure, on both sides. – Christine lifted her on her lap.

\- I honestly do hope Geneviéve rots in Hell. – Erik's angry voice could be heard from the kitchen.

\- Erik! – Christine gasped in horror.

\- Sorry, couldn't help it. – Erik sighed.

\- Why do you wish her to rot in Hell, Papa? – Mahtab jumped off of Christine's lap and walked to the kitchen behind Erik's back.

\- Nothing, Mahtab. – Erik replied mechanically. – We did not… like each other too much.

\- And bad people go to Hell?

\- The Bible says so. – Erik nodded. – But stop bothering me because I end up putting soap on your pancake instead of butter.

They both laughed, and finally Mahtab seemed to calm down a bit about death issues. The other two children stormed into the dining room jumping on their seats, and Noel, just as always, started slapping his plate in excitement. Compared to being skinny, he could eat a whole horse with his appetite, just as his father. Since he made peace with himself, Erik did eat a lot more than he used to, yet he did not gain any weight.

\- I want six! No, seven! – He clapped.

\- How do you ask nicely, Noel? – Christine warned him about manners.

\- I would like to want seven. – He corrected himself, if not the best way, but still.

\- All right. – Erik arrived with the pancakes. – You get five at first, then you will tell me if you need more. – He patted his head.

When breakfast was served, Mahtab took a glance at her plate, but after she again turned to Christine.

\- Mama… did Grandpa love animals as well?

\- Yes, dear, he did, a lot. – Christine smiled.

\- Did you have a cat like M LeChat? – Flo had put a whole pancake in his mouth earlier, but his question came to his mind so abruptly he did not have time to chew and swallow it, so his inquiry turned out rather hard to understand, but Christine was well – trained about Flo's greediness, so she heard it right.

\- Florian, gentleman don't speak with their mouth stuffed full. – Erik turned to him.

\- Sorry. – Flo apologized properly.

\- We did not have a cat, Erik dear. – Christine replied, looking at her cute chubby son, who was now occupied by eating another sweet treat.

\- Why did you not have a cat? – Noel asked.

\- Because we were travelling a lot, and we were poor with my Papa. We did not have much to eat, and having an animal with us would have been selfish. We could not have given the treat they need.

\- Where did you travel a lot? – Mahtab put down her knife in sudden interest.

\- Papa was a street violinist and we would travel together to earn money. I sang.

\- Like Mozart on his concert tours? – She asked.

\- Kind of, but I never sang for royalties. – Christine laughed.

After some hours, Mahtab was still thinking about the words of Christine. Travelling with Papa, playing music… it sounded something she really wanted to try, and besides, Papa once promised it when she was small, but they returned home. When she wanted to run away it was really frightening but if Papa was with her, it should go well. She ran to the study where Erik was working on some kind of music and she tapped his shoulder to ask for attention.

\- What the Devil? - Erik gasped and dropped his pen. Realizing it was Mahtab, he turned around and asked: - What is it, Mahtab?

\- Papa, was it good to travel a lot?

\- It had its great moments. – He nodded.

\- Did you see many beautiful buildings?

\- Yes.

\- Do you want to see them again?

\- I do see them whenever I want to. I have books about each worthy building.

\- And in real life?

\- What? – He leaned closer to find out if his ear deceived him or not.

\- With me. – She pointed at herself.

\- Oh, Mahtab, how do you think up such a thing?

\- I wish to travel with you. All around Europe to see the Colosseum and all.

\- Ha! And might as well a pie in the sky?

\- Pie? I want that too.

\- Mahtab, a pie in the sky is just a saying, it means I am not going to do that.

\- Why?

\- Because I am an old man, Mahtab, I don't wish to drag myself all over again from country to country. I am tired and mostly in pain, I do not want to sleep in inns or tents, getting through forests and mountains without opportunity to bathe or use the bathroom in peace and I have no urge to leave my comfortable house behind for months, only for the sake of showing you some buildings you can see in a postcard anytime.

\- Seeing it in real life shall be a lot of fun. I would like to see it with you.

\- Oh… well, I will think about that. – Erik nodded, wanting to end the conversation about this subject for s time.

He knew what Mahtab felt, as he was just as curious about wonders of the world, but honestly, he did not feel like repeating any of his travels. In his age, people would most likely prefer to stay at home and lead a lazy and comfortable life. He did not like to admit the fact, but taking care of the house in itself started to be a challenge with the renovation and the children. Who needs a journey on top of these?

That child, however, did not give up things easily. She had learned during the years of her existence that if Papa says "No" to something, it can still be turned to a "Yes" within time, especially if she talks to Mama about it. Mama can make Papa change his mind, so she just went and asked Christine about the idea of a travel with Papa.

\- Oh dear, would you leave us here with the boys?

\- You might as well come. – Mahtab smiled. – All the better.

\- Oh, I thought you would just go with Papa and would not even miss us. – Christine teased.

\- I think you all should come. Flo could bring his violin and he played music. Like Grandpa.

\- Now that is a very sweet idea, Mahtab dear. – Christine sighed dreamily. – Did you ask Papa about this yet?

\- Yes, but he doesn't want to. Talk to him, please! – Mahtab pleaded.

\- Well… I will, don't worry. He will say yes eventually.

Erik wasn't too happy about the fact that the little miss talked to her mother about her nonsense idea. He received the news with a sigh and a clear no, adding "Did I turn crazy, you think?" Christine thought it would be a wiser idea not to force the issue any further, but she did not give up convincing him later. Maybe he will say yes once if she finds him in a better mood.

That evening Mahtab went to the master bedroom directly after taking a bath to sleep with her parents. Christine would have allowed her to get in the bed, and started telling her a story, but when Erik arrived to the bedroom after putting the boys in bed, finding Mahtab laying in his own bed, he shook his head and told her to go sleep with her brothers. It has happened two more times, and later Erik accompanied her back in her room and sat on the side of her bed till she fell asleep. He softly recited a poem to calm her down. He caressed her face one last time and kissed her cheek, then he walked back to the bedroom. Despite his habit, he locked the bedroom door.

\- Why did you do that? – Christine asked suspiciously.

\- Because I don't want Mahtab to jump on my feet at quarter to three again.

\- You are cruel.

\- She is too old for this babying.

\- She is a child, Erik, and needs support.

\- She has to learn to deal with her problems. Christine, there will be a time when she stays alone with them.

\- You might be right, but I find it cruel nonetheless.

\- Sometimes you need to be strict. – Erik lay down in bed and hugged Christine close to himself and kissed her neck.

Christine could no longer stay angry with Erik when he did that. They hugged close to each other and nearly fell asleep when Erik suddenly whispered something in Christine's ear to which she blushed bright red and giggled nervously for some seconds.

\- Are you sure…? – She asked half happily, half unsure.

\- Yes… please… allow Erik to… do it quickly. Will you? He would so love to. – Erik's voice was so pleading and Christine was actually happy about Erik wanted to do it by himself, so she allowed him to do what he needed to.

Mahtab woke up again in the middle of the night again. For a time, she just tried to fall asleep again, thinking of Papa's soothing voice, but she could no longer do it. She needed Papa's presence. She got up and walked to the bedroom door, but when she wanted to press the doorknob, she heard something VERY strange.

It sounded like Papa was in pain or something. He moaned, and both Mama and he were breathing on a strange way. She got alarmed upon hearing this, and wanted to open the door to see what was happening, but it was closed. This only made her even more nervous. She was standing at the door, with eyes wide open, biting her lips. Is Papa dying? Why did he cry out? Why Mama is breathing like that? Only when Mama started to laugh, and it was followed by Papa's happy "Oh, Christine…" she started to calm down. She pressed her ear against the wood of the door to hear if they needed help or not, but she could only hear some happy chit-chat being whispered. They confessed love to each other and everything seemed to be normal. Erik stated it was the best "lovemaking" of his life.

What the Hell is lovemaking?

She wanted to ask Papa and Mama, but she was afraid she will be scolded by Erik for the attempt to enter the bedroom when he clearly stated she wasn't allowed to, so she rather chose not to. But maybe Sophie can answer!

When Yvette arrived for a visit with Sophie and small Philippe, and Christine and Yvette were busy babbling to the baby, Mahtab took Sophie's hand and led her to Papa's study, where they won't be bothered for a time.

\- I need to ask something. – Mahtab whispered.

\- What? - Sophie inquired curiously.

\- Do you know what lovemaking is?

\- Lovemaking is when you make love.

\- Yes, but how?

\- Well, Mama told me that a man and a woman do it when they love each other and this is how Philippe was born.

\- But wasn't Philippe sent by God?

\- Mama did not say that.

\- Papa said that people pray to God to get a child.

\- Maybe, but then why would they kiss?

\- So kissing makes babies?

\- I am not sure.

\- I kiss Flo as well, but we don't have babies. – Mahtab said with confusion.

\- I think it is because you need to kiss in bed.

\- Really?

\- That is what I heard, but it wasn't told by Mama.

\- Maybe that is true because they were in bed.

\- Maybe you will have a baby brother than? – Sophie laughed, and clapped.

\- I am not sure.

\- Would you like to have a baby? – Sophie asked.

\- I think yes. – Mahtab nodded and smiled. – I like children in general and Flo and Noel are mostly cute.

They started playing together and Mahtab forgot about the whole issue for a time. After some days it returned her mind though, so she walked to Christine and asked.

\- Mama, do you want another family member?

\- Why do you ask that? – Christine turned to her child with a sudden interest.

\- Because I thought you were planning it with Papa.

\- Oh! We did not yet talk about it, but… you might be right!

Christine assumed Mahtab was talking about a dog. Shadow passed away and all of them missed him. What were they waiting for? She is right! She was going to get a puppy for the family!

\- Fear not, my dear little one. – Christine kissed Mahtab on the cheek. – Mama is going to get one for you all.

\- So you start to pray for God?

\- No, I go and buy one.

\- Buy? – Mahtab asked with a jaw drop.

\- Yes, they are being sold as well, you don't always find one on the streets.

\- On the streets…? – She whispered.

God… maybe she wasn't even sent by God, but just found on the streets?

Christine just put on a hat and hurried away, leaving Mahtab there, totally confused, wondering about the circumstances of her birth.


	51. Chapter 51

Poor little Mahtab. She couldn't be any more confused. She was not sure of the things she used to know anymore, and she was just pacing around the room in circles. She was trying to figure everything out. Well, if babies are sold, maybe that explains how Flo and Noel got in the household, and maybe the "found on the streets" part was referring to her? As she was wondering, Oliver Twist came to her mind. Yet Oliver wasn't just found on the streets, as he was born in a workhouse, but maybe other children, who were born somewhere else than a workhouse, are maybe just found on the streets. She walked closer to Mama's vanity table and stared into the mirror for a few minutes. She felt like this can't go on like this for much more time, as too many questions and thoughts were bothering her. She decided to ask Papa, no matter if she gets scolded for listening. She had to find out the truth.

Not even the happy sounds of Noel driving around his toy car in the garden made Mahtab forget about her problems, however she loved to join to the boys playing outside other times. The boys were playing happily, Noel was racing through the garden path, and Flo was just laughing from the top of his lungs, trying to catch Noel's car, running after it.

-In the name of law, I said "stop"! I am a policeman and you will be under a rest!

\- You can't just sit under a rest sign forever. – Noel stopped his car curiously and exclaimed with confusion.

\- I don't get it either, but Tonton Mohammed said you will get under a rest if you do something bad.

\- Wow. It must be boring. – Noel pouted.

\- Let me drive that car a bit please. – Flo asked. – I will take care.

\- If you promise you don't make me sit under a rest, you can. – He jumped out, letting his brother in.

With a bit of uncomfortable lip- biting, Mahtab opened the study's door, where she hoped to find her father. Erik had the habit of letting the boys out to play in the garden if he wanted to have some alone time, and he usually sent Mahtab to practice piano or violin. So if the boys are outside, Papa should be there in his study. She did not have to be disappointed, as Erik was sitting at his desk, reading something. Papa…? – She called out.

\- Mahtab, I am busy, go and play with the boys, will you?

\- I have to talk to you now. – She replied with determination.

\- What is wrong, child? – Erik put down the book and turned to Mahtab with worry. – Are you feeling ill?

\- No. – She walked closer. – But I have to talk to you.

\- All right. – He nodded. – Come here, take a seat and tell me what is wrong.

Mahtab sat down to the chair next to Erik's desk, so she was able to make eye contact. That small chair was there especially for her, Erik put it there when Mahtab was yet a toddler, because he sat the girl there if he was working and wanted to keep an eye at the girl. He would occasionally talk to her to make her entertained, so Mahtab loved to be there.

She loved Erik's study. The smell of books, the many interesting sheet music he was writing, smell of rosin he was keeping in there, the chess table, the different colored inks- black, blue and red, the blueprints and designs organized in stacks, and, to tell the truth, the box of liquored candy he kept in one of the drawers, and he would treat her with one or two sometimes, did fill her with pleasant feelings, and unleashed her imagination. And, even more importantly, this room always reminded her of Papa. He spent much time here, and the room had a special atmosphere to her because of him. Other than the music room, this was her favorite place in the house.

She somewhat calmed down when she sat down in front of Erik, and was now able to think her speech logically.

\- Papa… you told me you asked God to give me and the boys to you.

\- Yes. – Erik nodded.

\- And do you have to pay to God for the children? How much did I cost?

\- What…? No. – Erik gasped.

\- But Mama said babies can be bought, or they are found on the streets.

\- I am pretty sure your mother had said nothing of that sort, Mahtab, you must have terribly misunderstood something. Tell me the whole context of the talking, then I might be able to explain.

\- I asked her if you plan to have a new family member.

\- New family member? Who?

\- A baby.

\- What on Earth did give you this impression? No, Mahtab, I am satisfied with the number of children I currently have.

\- Then why did you do that thing?

\- What thing, Mahtab? – Erik leaned closer suspiciously.

\- Papa, please promise me I won't be punished if I tell you something.

\- I promise. – Erik nodded, but wasn't too much pleased.

\- The other night I heard you and Mama. You were making strange sounds. You cried out and I thought you were in pain.

Erik gasped and lifted his fist in front of his mouth in shock.

\- What is wrong, Papa? Were you really in pain?

\- Mahtab it is not a nice thing to listen, you should have slept.

\- I know, and I am sorry. – She lowered her head. – But I could not sleep, I was sad and afraid.

\- And what exactly did you hear?

\- You said it was the best lovemaking ever. And I asked Sophie what lovemaking is.

\- And what did she say? – Erik buried his face in his hands.

\- She said that lovemaking has to do something with babies, but to be honest, I am so confused now that I don't know anymore.

\- Well, Mahtab… I am going to tell you something. But I warn you not to tell this to your brothers, as they are yet too young for this issue. You are a bit older, and I guess, you may know about it now… well, as you are listening… - He sighed and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief, trying to collect his thoughts. – What you have heard the other night… was a duet.

\- Duet?

\- Yes, between your Mama and I.

\- Do you sing it a lot?

\- We used to sing it more when I was a bit younger, but sometimes we still want to practice it.

\- And this is lovemaking?

\- Yes. Lovemaking is an act of showing your love to the one you love the most on Earth: in my case it is my wife.

\- So it is kissing?

\- Kind of. You show them how much and deeply you love them and it… well… causes some kind of noise, which you heard.

\- And that is how babies are born?

\- Yes. After you show you love, sometimes a baby arrives in the family. But not always. You know, God sees how much a husband and a wife do love each other, because they showed love on that special way, and he can see the baby will have a happy home with those parents who love each other so dearly. And if the parents keep praying enough, God will gift them with a baby.

\- So it can happen that you will have a baby now?

\- It is unlikely, but it always has some chances when two people sing this duet.

\- And how much time do you have to make love to have a baby from God?

\- It depends. Some Papas and Mamas receive a baby often, such as Mama and me. But other couples have to work hard to get a tiny miracle. They are trying for years on and on, and it also does happen sadly, that no matter how much a couple is praying, they never have a baby.

\- Why?

\- It is because either the Mama or the Papa has an illness which doesn't allow them to have a child on their own, but they still have the option to adopt a child.

\- Like how Mr. Brownlow adopted Oliver?

\- Exactly. He accepted Oliver as his own child, even though they weren't related to each other. And even Tonton Raoul did adopt Sophie. She is not his own daughter, but he raises her just as she was.

\- And now they got small Philippe.

\- Exactly, because they were praying enough for a son. They received baby Philippe as a gift. So, to reply your original question, no, babies aren't sold, nor can you just find them on the streets. Sometimes it does happen if you find an orphan, but then they are adopted. You are not adopted. Mama and I worked hard and prayed a lot to have you and your little brothers in our lives.

Erik reached out to pet Mahtab's hair, and smiled at the girl, who sent a huge grin in return. She leaned closer and received a kiss on that skull forehead by the malformed lips of her father. Erik did not give a second thought about kissing his child, and he saw nothing wrong with her face. He learned to love her just as she was, contrary the fact he could neer imagine to look at this child without any disgust when she was born.

\- But then what can be bought with money that Mama was referring to? – Mahtab wondered out loud, but in the next moment, they heard happy screams from the garden coming through the open window.

\- Aww, look how cute! – Flo exclaimed

\- Let me pet it! – Noel begged.

\- Of course, you may pet her. – Christine's cheerful voice could be heard.

\- What the Hell is happening? - Erik jumped up cautiously and stormed out of the study, arriving at the bottom of the hallway staircase with a jump, contrary to his age.

Though Erik was in hurry, the mathematical disadvantage, but physical advantage between Mahtab's and his age gave her the opportunity to still get out earlier than Erik, so the father did not have to see the happenings by his own eyes to know what it was. Mahtab's excited cries gave away the secret.

\- Look, Papa, a puppy! A cute puppy it is! Come and watch it!

\- Puppy? – Erik wheezed at the front door, bracing the door frame with one hand.

\- Yes, we have a new family member. – Christine smiled widely, placing the small animal down in the bright green grass.

\- What…? Why? – Erik gasped, still a bit from running, but more from surprise.

\- The children missed a dog. – Christine explained, pointing at the lap- dog she just got.

\- A dog. – Erik retorted. – But not a shoe- cleaner. – He groaned, then turned around to get back to the house.

The children seemed not to notice Erik's changed mood, they were too happy to have the sand- colored furry thing who had a pink ribbon in her neck.

\- Look what a tail she has!

\- Aww, so sweet.

\- Can you sing?

\- Can you fetch a ball?

As Christine saw the younger ones were friendly to the new part of the family, and the dog liked the kids as well, she decided to go after Erik and find out what his problem might be.

She found him in the music room, petting the back of M. LeChat, who was laying on the top of the piano.

\- Erik, what is wrong? – She asked.

\- Nothing. – Erik replied drily.

\- I know something is wrong, I know you. – She went on stubbornly.

\- More things are wrong, let's just not talk about it.

\- Erik, please tell me what bothers you.

\- Does it matter at all? – He waved in the air with irritation.

\- It does, definitely.- She gasped with horror. – Why do you ask that?

\- Because you act without asking me yet again.

\- It was a sudden idea. But Erik, I thought you will like to have a new dog.

\- Well, what does it matter if I do or don't? You have already decided for me. Well, now I shall decide for you.

\- What?

\- I will think up something you would not like to have and force you into a situation to have it anyway.

\- Erik, why don't you want a dog? You loved Shadow.

\- Must I always reason it? – He barked. – But as I said, it doesn't matter anymore. You made the decision, and I will have to get used to it. The children love it, so I have no word.

\- I am sorry Erik. I thought you won't mind it…

\- I do. But I will get used to it eventually. Give me time. A lot of time. And I tell you in advance: I will not cross a straw about that thing. It is yours, not mine. If it does its business somewhere, you will mop it up, you will feed it, or the kids, I don't give a damn.

\- All right. – Chrstine replied softly. – It just hurts me that you aren't able to be happy about your children's happiness.

\- Oh, so now I have to be happy about it, not to hurt your feelings.

\- You said earlier that the thing making me happy makes you happy too, no matter what it is. Seems like you weren't totally honest. – Christine turned around and left the music room half angrily and half sadly. As she reached the bottom of the stairs to go back in the garden to rejoin her children, she could hear Erik's passionate piano playing coming from the music room.

Erik loathed that dog. That small lap- dog, who was either on Christine's lap, sticking out its rosy colored tongue at everyone else who had the misfortune to look at it, giving out annoying gasping noises, or was chasing one of the children in the garden or hall. How did Erik wish to see it with such a stuck out tongue- hanging down from a goddamned tree! But sadly, he could not do it – the kids and Christine adored that fur ball too much. They loved it just as much as he did hate it. It had such an annoying voice it gave him goosebumps every time he heard it. And the worst thing was that the little snot sure knew he hated it, as it was barking and growling at him whenever he showed up. The small feather duster. And to make matters worse, it received such a stupid name, he had the urge to throw up by hearing it. Well, sure, Shadow wasn't a creative name either, but it sounded hundred times better than " _Princess Fluff_."

Yes exactly that her name was. Princess Fluff. Ridiculous. He pouted each time it was said. He did not know which of the family members came up with that horrendously sickening name, but he had to admit, in a way, it fit the thing, it was just as sickeningly stupidly cute as its name. That ribbon was in its neck always, which fact would have made it easier to hang it, if he had the courage to do so.

Even though he did not reason it, he felt he had every right to hate it. Other than the aforementioned reasons, he had one huge problem with it:

It constantly reminded him of _Bisous._

Bisous was his mother's spoiled, overweight and annoying lap- dog, exactly the same breed and look as Princess Fluff. That damned stupid ribbon wasn't missing either, they could have passed as twins. Erik hated Bisous with passion. It was because Mother loved that thing- but not him. He never received a single kiss from Mother, yet Bisous was constantly getting them, without even asking. Erik did ask for them- and he only received his mask thrown at him, accompanied by desperate sobs, and his mother hurrying out of the room. That fur ball was loved a lot more by her than him. Subconsciously he linked the two dogs and he sent his hatred towards the thing which received love other than him – both from Mother, and now, Christine.

He was so afraid his jealousy will make him do that same horrible act yet again… he was fighting his urges in his mind, just as he could… but seeing Christine giving kisses to that disgusting little mop… he felt he was going to lose his mind and temper…

And if things go bad, no one can stop Erik… not even himself!

Erik started to be afraid of himself. His own thoughts. Bits of his past started to flash in front of his eyes, random, as he saw that horrid little thing. He wished it disappeared so his memories would not haunt him, but the love it received from the rest of his family made it impossible. They would miss it… cry about it…

How did mother cry… oh those tears… those sobs… they still were ringing in his ears…

Christine noticed something bothered Erik. He was rather grumpy, introvert and he talked in one- word sentences, especially if the dog was around too. She was trying to make the two of them make peace with each other, but this only resulted in a nasty bite on Erik's right index finger, which annoyed him even more. She thought, it was wiser not to bother them any more about it – they will make peace within time.

Yet Erik's state of mind got worse and worse in the coming weeks. He was tossing and turning a lot in his sleep, whimpering some inaudible words of fear, indicating he was tortured by nightmares. Suddenly he jolted up right in sitting position, gasping for air, bathing in his sweat.

\- Erik, what's the matter? – Christine moved closer, trying to comfort him.

\- Nothing. – He barked. – Maybe I ate too much for dinner. – He kicked off the covers and climbed out of bed.

\- Where are you going? – She asked with worry. Seeing Erik in this state really gave her fright.

\- I need to get some fresh air.

\- Are you feeling ill?

\- No, no, leave me alone.

He disappeared through the bedroom door, towards the hall. She got up from bed as well, needing to check on Erik, if he was all right. She heard a terrified little scream, on Erik's higher pitched voice, which he only used when he was feeling insecure. She knew it a lot, Erik woke up with this scream night by night in the first year of their marriage. She hurriedly put on her slippers and ran out to the hall. Erik was standing at the first step, walking up on the stairs backing out, while Princess Fluff was growling at him, threateningly following him upper and upper. Erik was terrified, begging to the dog to go and leave him.

\- Stay… I said stay… go to Hell… leave me…

\- Erik, don't be afraid! – She called out. – Fluff is going after you because you are afraid of her. She only wants to play.

\- Erik isn't afraid of this damned thing… just take it away from him, Christine, I beg you to take it away…

Christine picked the small dog up in her arms, soothingly stroking the puppy's ear, and hushing it. Erik fled to the music room. Christine put down the dog on the floor and walked upstairs to the music room to investigate the issue a bit further. Why does Erik act so strange?

\- Erik.

\- No! Don't bring it in! – Erik jumped up from the sofa, protectively holding his hands in front of him.

\- Erik, Fluff is downstairs. May I come in?

\- If you must…. – Erik sighed, sitting back down, burying his face in his hands.

Christine walked inside, closing the door so that the dog can't get in the room and sat down next to Erik. She put a comforting hand on the man's back, and rubbed it, noticing only then that he was shaking from crying.

\- God, Erik, what is wrong?

\- I can't… tell. – He sobbed.

\- Are you so much afraid of a small dog, Erik, dear?

\- I am … not afraid … of it…

\- You act like that.

\- I am afraid… of… something else.

\- What else? – She stroke Erik's few locks of soft hair, which was all poofed up as he just got up from bed.

\- Erik. – He admitted brokenly.

\- Why are you afraid of… yourself?

\- I can't tell it. – He shook his head.

\- You may tell me everything, Erik, which is why we are married. I support you.

\- You will… hate Erik… if he tells you… - Erik covered his face with his hands, peeking through his long fingers, just as a scared child.

\- How can you say such a thing? I would never hate you. – She patted his trembling back reassuringly. – No matter what it is, Erik, tell me. Please.

\- Promise Erik you will not leave him if you find out the truth. – He took her hand in his shaky grip, looking her in the eye with a begging expression.

\- I promise, Erik. – She kissed his forehead to ease his pain.

The man took a few deep breaths to calm himself a bit, to be able to start his confession.

\- Christine, I am… as I said… not afraid of the dog… but Erik. Erik can't be stopped by anyone… not even himself… if he goes crazy… and that is what I am afraid of. That I am going to turn… violent. – He paused, looking at Christine, but as she did not interrupt him, he continued. – This dog… brings me back bad memories. Memories I had hoped to be buried deep down in my mind… but as this thing is here, day by day, the flashbacks return… to torture me.

\- What kind of memories?

\- Mother… used to have a dog… exactly as Fluff… same breed… same color… same voice. – He swallowed. – Bisous. – He pouted as he pronounced that name. – She was Mother's… replacement… for a child… as she could not own a normal child… the only creature she had… was Erik. And so… Bisous got the love… and affection… that Erik should have gotten… being so fortunate to be born… with a face a mother could have loved.

\- Oh God… - Christine sighed. – So… Fluff reminds you of her?

\- Yes. – He nodded. – And jealousy… you see… never does good to Erik… you remember what happened to the Viscount… ? Nearly?

\- Erik, you want to tell me that you… have you…?

\- Yes. – He cried out, clinging to Christine's arm desperately. – Yes, Christine… I… I… killed it. It was the first… voluntary murder… Erik had committed. But… the worst thing… isn't the murder itself…

\- Why? – She asked with tearful eyes. – What could be worse?

\- That… E-Erik does… not… remember it. – He stuttered.- It… happened… in… a state of mind… he can't recall… everything has happened… too fast. I… I… only remember… Mother's screams… and sobs… and me looking down… and seeing… the thing with a broken neck…. And the worst thing… is I did not… really mean to. It just _happened_. That is… what I am terribly afraid of, Christine. Turning like that… again.

\- Oh, Erik… this is horrible…

\- I know. – He nodded. – That is the reason… I ran away from home. I… I… was afraid… I would… or could… m-m-murder… my own M-m-mother as well… I-I-I… cause… t-t-t-trouble.

Christine hugged Erik close to herself, placing his head on her breast, gently stroking his ear to comfort him. Erik loved his ears to be caressed, so he closed his eyes and tried his best to enjoy the moment.

\- Fear not, Erik dear. Christine is going to solve this problem. Sssssh… - She reassured him.

\- Do you… still love… Erik…?

\- I do. – She said. – And always will.

Even though she found Erik's act in the past a terrible sin, and she definitely did not like what she had to hear, she did not think it is a reason for divorce. Erik was a tortured, emotionally unstable and unloved child, who suddenly got fed up with the cruelty of his mother and took revenge on the creature he thought, was to be blamed for everything. He imagined if the scapegoat disappears, everything will be fine. Childish, but understandable act from a desperate child who lacked his mother's love and was able to kill to get it.

She knew though, that this situation can't go on like this, so she had to find a solution.

Sophie's Birthday arrived. All of the family was invited to the de Chagny's home, and Erik was in hurry to get ready. He found it strange that the small disgusting mop wasn't running around his legs, barking at him, but to be honest, he was only happy about it. He did not find it important to search for it. Thankfully, maybe it disappeared.

He arrived to the hall for the sounds of Noel whining about the bow-tie Christine wanted to put on him.

\- Mama, I don't want to!

\- But you will be so sweet, look at Flo! Don't you want to be such a good- looking little boy?

\- Isn't it all the same how I get dressed for a blind girl's Birthday? She cannot see me anyway, I could just as easily go in my underwear.

\- Noel! – Christine gasped in indignation. – You will let me put on this bow-tie on you right now, or else Papa will wash your mouth out with soap. What a thought, dear God!

\- Sorry, but I hate ties. – Noel explained.

\- I used to hate them too. – Erik patted the boy's head as he stepped into the room. – But I learned how good they look, and that a gentleman always wears his tie right. Don't worry, you will look fantastic.

Noel nodded and let the annoying piece of clothing to be put on him, mostly for the reason to impress Papa. He promised that he will teach him how to juggle three balls at once if he behaves.

As they arrived to the de Chagny house, Yvette hurried to greet them happily. Flo bowed in front of Sophie, kissed her cheek and said

\- Happy Birthday to the most beautiful woman on Earth. – then kissed her hand, as a real courting man.

\- Happy Birthday my sister. – Mahtab hugged her tight.

\- Happy Birthday Sophie! – Noel ran to her happily and patted her shoulder. – I wanted to look good for you so I let my parents forcing a tie on me. – He added proudly.

\- We brought you a gift! – Mahtab went on.

\- Really? – Sophie smiled. – It is a big enough gift you are here.

\- Then we brought this huge box here for nothing Papa? – Noel poked Erik's side. – So we are going to keep it?

\- No, Noel, we are going to give it to Sophie.

\- We wish you a Happy Birthday and a lot more to come in health and happiness, my dear. – Christine carried the box to Sophie and put it down in front of her.

\- Thank you. – She giggle. – May I open it, Papa? – She turned to Raoul, who she knew was standing behind her back.

\- Of course, my sweet girl. Open it, let's see what is it? – Raoul ndded, still being extremely touched about Sophie always calling him "Papa".

As the girl opened the box, she instantly received a few licks on her face from the inhabitant. She hugged the furry thing in delight, exclaiming happily:

\- Look, Papa! A dog!

\- Yes dear, it is your own dog. – Raoul nodded with a huge smile.

What on Earth? Erik was speechless from astonishment. Princess Fluff was the gift. As he saw Sophie and the disgusting little rat getting so close to each other, he realized that the dog had a much better place here. They adored each other with the child, it was definitely a love at first sight. The children spent an awesome afternoon together with Fluff, and it was such a great feeling to leave the pest there behind with its new owner.

When they arrived back home, and the parents were left in peace, Erik hugged Christine, kissed her and said:

\- Thank you dear, for your act. I can't word how much it means to me.

\- I talked to Raoul and Yvette, and all of us agreed that Sophie would need a pet to take care of. – She smiled warmly.

\- Truer words were never spoken, my dear. – Erik sighed in relief. – I love you.

\- I love you too, my husband. No matter what, I always love you.


	52. Chapter 52

Time passed in peace and happiness since Erik finally got rid of Princess Fluff. Thankfully the children weren't too heartbroken about her leave – the thing wasn't with them for such a long time to be noticed, and separation was easier. Christine, thank Heavens, did not force the new dog issue too much anymore, seeing Erik's reaction about Princess Fluff, and thought, if God decided them to have a new dog, he will give them one as he gave Shadow. Patience solves all issues.

The children were growing, and were mostly healthy. Noel, just as Mahtab in her younger years, was sick a lot with the cold in the winter, but other than that, they did not have serious problems. Neither did Erik, even though he was already 65 years old. His joints were bothering him a bit sometimes, but not too much, and he was used to some level of pain anyways. He had to suffer through a lifetime of bigger and more horrible level of pain, some minor discomfort could not make him whine.

All of the children were getting cleverer and cleverer, Erik loved to see that they learned new things day by day.

Florian's certificate at school was good enough, the only subject he was really terrible at, was mathematics. Erik simply did not get how his son can't figure out even basic calculations. Well, in this field, he certainly did not inherit anything from Papa. He did use his fingers to calculate simple equations, which fact did annoy the extremely talented architect father to no end, and sadly, sometimes he did lose his patience with Flo in this matter.

-Your brain is like gray stone, my son! You are dumb as Hell. You will never become anything!

\- Papa, I don't need Math for being a musician! – He sniffed with tearful eyes, in response to his father's outrage.

\- You can't just put bread on the table being only a musician. Music, Florian, is a lifestyle. A religion. But you need a proper education and a profession to work in. – Erik sighed. – Well, it really seems like you won't turn out as an architect or a clerk. We should find something out then. You will be given to a blacksmith, or a carpenter. These are useful and nice jobs as well. I won't waste my money for schooling you when you will most likely fail in every year.

Erik was bothered by Florian's future. It was nearly time to send him to secondary school, as he was nearly through third grade in elementary school, and he definitely did not want his son to end his schooling at the age of 10, but which of the secondary schools would accept his application with such a miserable performance in Mathematical subjects? No matter how much he made him study and practice, not all effort could make him better than mediocre level, but most likely, worse. He nearly had to repeat class in second grade because of the damned numbers. Erik and Mahtab were trying endlessly to explain things to him, but he was seemingly unable to understand it. As if his brain was not capable of it at all.

\- You would better prepare yourself for the thought of working in building industry, carrying bricks all day, if you go on like this. – He stated coldly, as he signed the boy's horrible grades.

Though his success in music was outweighing his lousy performance in mathematics, he played both the piano and the violin in mastery level, he could learn each instruments he could spend some time alone with, was writing detailed and very well- written compositions for more instruments, and he was able to write nicely and read perfectly. If only he was able to count…

Mahtab was excellent in everything, she got noticeably better in music as well, since she wasn't sent out of the room while practicing. And Erik found out a new talent that his daughter had: singing. The girl did not really like to sing, and Erik never forced it on her, they rather went to the direction of instrumental music, yet she did not excel at that field too much. She did not sing too much, so Erik did not notice her voice, but as she matured and her speaking and singing voice as well got a pleasant layer on them. Once she suddenly felt the urge to sing a cheerful little song of Flo out loud in the music room, and Erik just jumped in as lightning struck him. He was staring at Mahtab in awe, just as he saw her for the first time. He could not describe what was so enchanting about the girl's singing, but she sure could fill the song with emotions. Erik praised her endlessly, which gave the girl a bit of more self- confidence and was now proudly singing along as she got the sheet musics. Finally, she felt success in music. She was attending at Mama and Papa's singing lessons as well, along with Flo.

Other than singing, Mahtab excelled in languages, she was able to speak and write in English, Farsi, German, Italian, and she started learning Latin. Also she was great at mathematics, arithmetic, designing, tinkering and drawing.

Christine, though, wasn't totally content with Mahtab's knowledge. Sure, she was well educated in all manly fields, and as Erik took her to the remodeling, she received even more manly knowledge- plumbing, painting, paperhanging, she learned how to glaze windows, and build fence… yet she knew nothing about occupations women should do. Knitting, embroidering, sewing and cooking were completely alien and boring for her, no matter how Christine wanted to involve her in such activities.

\- Erik, would you please treat Mahtab as a girl finally and told her she simply has to learn womanly jobs as well?

\- I have told you countless times, Christine, that it was not me, who treated her as a man. She acts like a boy, and I just accept it. But you are right about she needs to learn these things as well.

Erik talked Mahtab about the necessity of these boring, yet useful houseworks she tried to avoid like the plague. Being a single father at home did help, as he asked the girl to help him. Mahtab liked to help Erik, even with things she actually disliked, so it wasn't that hard. The girl is big enough to help now.

\- Well, Mahtab, I don't really enjoy it either. – He admitted.

\- But then why you do that?

\- You know, my dear, one has to learn and do these jobs as well. What will you do if you lose a button from your jacket?

\- I ask you to sew it back on.

\- It is a solution while I am still here, but there will be times you cannot any more. That is why you have to learn to take care of yourself, and it includes cooking, doing the laundry, ironing, sewing, and cleaning. You see me doing these things as well, you know they are necessary.

Mahtab started to like to help Erik with housework not only because it gave them more time together, but she also noticed it made Papa's life a lot easier as he did not have to do everything alone. He had much less work and could relax more, which he sometimes needed. She became a lot more hardworking to help Papa as much as she could, she would even run out to collect and carry the newspaper in for Erik in the mornings.

\- Oh thank you, sweetie, you are very thoughtful. – He stroke her hair lovingly.

Thankfully Mahtab turned out a much better cook than her mother. Erik remembered back partly amused, and partly terrified to those occasions when he let Christine in the kitchen, and nearly all of these occasions ended up in chaos or disaster. She succeeded in burning a large pot and a curtain when she was trying to cook rice once, and created a cake with bits of coal in it. She burned everything, and which things she did not burn, she did over salt or over spiced somehow else. That is why it was Erik who cooked in the Spöke family. Mahtab learned tricks from her father and was much more talented in this field than her mother, so Erik gave her more and more independence in the kitchen. In a few months, she cooked complete menus without any help, and she was beaming with pride when Erik asked her to cook lunch for the visit of the Daroga and the de Chagnys on a Sunday.

Everyone was speechless when the young girl served the courses proudly, stating she had made all of it. Yet girls in her age were already taught to run a household, no one expected this boyish specimen to be able to cook a meal. Sophie started eating happily upon hearing her best friend had made it, and Yvette started spooning the soup with a smile, but Raoul and the Daroga were blinking at each other a bit of cautiously, but when they saw that nor the family nor the other guests had trouble eating, they tasted it as well, and had to face a pleasant disappointment. It tasted fantastic, just as if Erik made it.

In the evening, when all the guests were talking in the drawing room, suddenly all the children walked in. The guests, and both Erik and Christine got surprised, as the whole action seemed to be so much planned out. It wasn't just a simple walk in. Sophie slowly tapped her way around to sit down on the couch next to Christine, and obediently started to put on the role of the cultured audience. Florian was carrying his violin, which fact indicated that they were preparing to play music.

\- Ladies and Gentlemen- Noel started on a proud tone. – We would like to perform something for your entertainment.

\- Oh- ho. – Erik grinned proudly, waiting for the performance to start. He was proud, as his children did not yet show the willingness to play for the guests- yet he had no idea what on Earth Noel wanted to do as he wasn't playing any instruments.

Mahtab and Flo stood next to each other, Flo stood in playing position, and Noel ran to the other end of the room to put the lights off. Before the guests had the time to be surprised, a small lamp on the table flared up, illuminating the two children in the center of the room. Noel disappeared somewhere. Flo started playing a beautiful melody on his violin, at first it was just him playing a small overture to the night, smiling. His dark locks and white chubby face made a nice contrast in the darkness of the room. Even though he wasn't yet nine years old, a mastery confidence could be seen on each of his movements. He played like an adult. The heartbreakingly beautiful phrases of the violin had already melted the audience's heart when the miracle occurred: Mahtab joined in with a singing part. Her beautiful clear soprano filled up the room, rang as a pure child angel's voice, and was in perfect harmony with Flo's violin playing. She was singing an old Persian tale in Farsi, that was put to music by Florian. As Erik remarked, the song itself was rather sounding European than Persian, but his son hadn't the opportunity to learn how Persian songs are made- but he knew he shall teach him that. And they suddenly saw a huge shadow of an eagle, flying through the room on the wall, then some more shadow figures were turning the show a lot more interesting. Oh, so that is why Noel turned off the lights, save for that one lamp- he was playing whit the shadows. Erik and Christine smiled widely with pride as their children made the guests cry with happiness. The Daroga was crying the hardest as Flo and Mahtab made him remember his homeland. He was covering his face with his handkerchief, constantly wiping his tears, whispering:

\- Moonlight, my small Moonlight… - This statement wasn't too relevant though, as the 2little Moonlight" did already reach up to his shoulder height.

Raoul got touched, and remembered back to Papa Daaé's playing and had to admit that Florian was already playing like him. This exact same thought hit Christine as well, as she hugged Erik's arm, and whimpered in between tears:

\- Just like Papa… just like my dear Papa…

Seems like each of the children learned how to use their talents the best, and how to cooperate to enchant the audience.

As the performance ended, a green flash could be seen, and then Noel turned the lights on again, walked next to his siblings and all three of them bowed towards the applauding and clapping people.

The touched adults clapped with joy, congratulating the young ones for their awesome teamwork. Erik and Christine were happy that their children were getting along well, and were willing to work together.

\- You were all awesome, my dears. – Erik hugged all three of them close to himself, kissing them. – Just promise Papa that you will love each other and cooperate as well as you did tonight in all your lives.

\- We promise. – Mahtab nodded. – We love each other.

\- We do. – Flo hugged Mahtab's chest. – And always will.

\- Totally. – Noel nodded as well, tapping Flo's head. – We are best friends forever.

\- Even if we argue sometimes, we like each other a lot. – Mahtab added.

\- Sure thing. No one can make me hate my other halves. – Noel nodded in agreement.

They were close to each other just like the three musketeers. They helped each other, and were encouraging and comforting each other, just like the real good siblings. Sometimes it did go too far, because Mahtab was willing to cheat and write Flo's Math homework for him, which fact did annoy Erik to no end. They received their justful punishments for that act, but it did not stop the protective sister from "helping" her little brother.

Autumn of 1897 arrived.

This year was special because Florian turned seven that year, and it did mean he had to be schooled. For the sake of simplicity, Noel started his education in the same elementary school as Flo. Yet Florian enjoyed to go to school, save for the mathematic lessons, Noel wasn't too fond of the idea. Erik did not wish to send him to school either, as he was afraid, with Noel's temper and special interests, school would be too boring for the boy, and this would cause him to make mischief.

He wasn't wrong.

If Noel was naughty at home, he could be described as a spoiled little brat and a troublemaker at school. He was bored about the laughable things he had to learn in first grade, and he was annoyed by the hits he would often receive on his left hand from the teacher, who did not like the fact that Noel was trying to write by the less- tolerated hand.

So, he had to occupy himself with things he found funny. Drawing caricatures with not too nice titles, and writing satires about the teacher were the most harmless thing he committed, but it did not meet the teacher's liking either. Setting the wastebasket on fire, attaching a sting to various objects, then pulling them off of the shelf, sometimes breaking them, hitting the bell by smaller rocks from his desk, so that it will ring earlier were his most favorite, and less innocent games. Because of these activities, he spent most of the day in the corner, facing the wall.

When he glued the teacher's trousers to the chair, he was almost kicked out of school, only his grades were saving him, and the fact that he recite all the multiplication tables by heart in front of the director. They did accept it as an exam with which he finished first grade in three months. The director and the teacher both agreed that Noel was too clever to be in first grade, and more complicated tasks were more likely to occupy his mind and turn him away from mischiefs (and moreover, it will help them to get rid of Noel a year earlier, by finishing school in only three years if he wasn't going to change.)

Contrary to his troublemaking, other children liked Noel a lot, as they considered him funny and a kind kid. Noel was good to other children, he loved to play with them, and taught them to more simple tricks, which made him even more popular. That was the only reason he liked school for – making friends.

Mahtab was suddenly home alone with Erik in the mornings, as both of her brothers were at school now. She did not mind it at first, as she was occupied with helping her father with housework, and they had time to talk… but the thought of going to school got nested in her head more and more. She was asking her brothers about the activities they are doing at school, and even though Noel did say that school was a horrible place and most likely Mama wanted him to go there only because she wanted to torture him, and Flo stated he disliked Math classes a lot, she got more and more curious.

\- Papa, what is school like? – She asked one day, while Erik and she were working on the dinner for the family. She was peeling potatoes, and looked at her father curiously.

\- I don't have the slightest idea. – He replied. – I have never attended.

\- Why?

\- My mother did not find it necessary. – Erik shrugged.

He knew well that this talk was about to happen once. This is why he did not find it a good idea to send the boys to school. One always wants to do what others are doing, and it feels terrible to be an outsider. He remembered back to his own childhood, when he was standing at the window, looking at the children who were hurrying to school in that small French village he was born in. How he wished to join them… just once in his life.

\- And why don't you find it necessary for me to go to school? – She inquired.

\- If you ask me, I can teach you more things than those teachers at school. – Erik moaned, and his bitter memories and Mahtab's inquiries sent him into tears.

\- Why are you crying? – Mahtab asked comfortingly.

\- Because I am peeling onions. – Erik replied in a bad mood.

Yet Mahtab wasn't silly, she knew well that her father was crying because of the things she had asked him, so she decided she won't ask him more about school, as it gives Papa a lot of pain. Mama could not explain it to her either, as she did not go to school either. She was too busy travelling with her Papa and playing music. Well…

Maybe that should happen them with her Papa as well…?

Either that, or school…


	53. Chapter 53

Dr. Bonsanté shook his head in displeasure as he looked upon that small skull – face. Oh, those scratches and that black eye made it look even worse than it was otherwise. He was a doctor, so he examined both Erik and Mahtab with scientific interest, and he did not find them hideously ugly, yet he had to admit that neither the father nor the poor little thing met the European, or, to be precise, the whole world's beauty standards at all, to word it nicely.

The child said nothing. She sat obediently on the side of the table in the doctor's office, waiting for her injuries to be taken care of. They weren't too bad, thankfully. A little nosebleed, some not too deep fingernail scratches on her face and hands, some bite marks, and a black eye. The more serious issue was her tortured and troubled soul. She did not say a single word since they hurriedly arrived to his office with her siblings.

Noel, contrary to his usual fidgeting, seemed to be just as silent as his sister. His eyes reflected fear, worry and cluelessness. The boy had suffered some minor beating as well, but certainly Mahtab was in need of help, not him.

He asked the boys to wait outside while he treated Mahtab's wounds. The two boys obediently walked out to the waiting room and sat down on the sofa. Flo was uneasily hugging his school bag to himself, and Noel, not being able to wait there just sitting, started to walk around the waiting room in circles. Just as his father would do if he was there.

\- Mahtab I need to call for your parents. – The doctor stated when he finished with the treatment.

\- Please no! – She exclaimed in a sudden panic.

\- Mahtab, I can't let you all walk home alone. You need at least one of your parents to take you home. Your father is at home. Right?

\- I guess he is. – She whispered. – But for Heaven's sake, don't contact him, I beg you, Monsieur…

\- And why do you ask this?

\- I will get in trouble. And possibly, my brothers will too.

\- Why is that?

\- Because… Papa doesn't know I am here. And he doesn't know what had happened. That is why he isn't here.

\- So you misbehaved, did you not? – The doctor sighed scolding her softly.

\- I did. – She nodded. – And now I face the consequences. – She dried her eye from tears both from pain, sadness and irritation from the injury.

\- I prescribe boric acid for your eye. – The doctor nodded. – It won't get inflamed if you use it properly.

He did not know what to do now. The child seemed to beg him not to call Erik in, but she sure can't either stay here all day or walk home alone. And he did not want to send the boys back to school all alone either, so that Erik will take them home as usual. Not only because they were young – younger children walked to school on their own as well – but because of their shocked state of mind. And how should someone allow them to carry a wonded, scared ugly child all alone? They can't defend her all protectively as it seemed like, and Mahtab walking all along Paris in this state would result in more conflicts. They lived in the suburbs. It was quite a walk from there. What to do now?

The boys were waiting impatiently and worriedly at the waiting room, Flo nervously sucked his thumb. Contrary to he was already 9 years old, he still sucked his thumb when he was extremely nervous. He just could not help it. Erik was scolding him for that and stated a real man doesn't calm himself with such a childish behavior. If Florian would have known the truth, that Erik did the same thing still after nightmares, and sometimes in his sleep… A tortured past sure does make people develop weird and shameful habits.

\- What will happen now? – Flo asked.

\- It will be all right. She just needs some rest. I bet she gets candy too. But she deserves it for comfort.

Though Flo was the older, Noel was the one who acted braver always. Flo often asked comfort from his little brother, knowing Noel is afraid of absolutely nothing.

\- Candy? – Flo lifted his head up in hope. – I am hungry.

\- Me too. – Noel admitted. – But they stole my lunch, the bastards.

\- I will tell Papa that you cuss! – Flo whined. – And so to Mama.

\- Tell it, you coward.

\- Me not coward.

\- You are. Only I did help Mahtab and you ran away. Shame on you.

In the exact moment, there was a knock on the door. A rather forceful one, to be honest.

\- Who came here? – Flo found it a better idea to climb under the sofa.

\- Coward. A patient. I open the door as the doctor's not here. – Noel sighed and walked to the door, opening it. - Good day, Monsieur, would you please wait a li…- He wasn't able to finish the sentence. He was shocked to see a tall and extremely thin man at the doorstep, wheezing from stress…

\- What… are you… doing here..? – He asked with eyes widened from sudden realization.

\- Papa…?

\- Why are… you not… at school?!

\- We were. – He explained. – But we came here with Mahtab.

\- So is… she here…? – Erik was shaking from head to foot, dragging himself to the couch, where Flo had already collected his bravery to sit back on.

\- Yes. – Noel patted his back to reassure Erik nothing was wrong.

\- Hello there, other son of mine. – Erik groaned grumpily. – What on Earth had happened…?

The door to the treatment room opened and the doctor guided Mahtab outside. Erik instantly jumped up and ran to her.

\- So you are here! – He grabbed Mahtab's coat collar angrily. Mahtab just closed her eyes, waiting for the new hit to come. He understood the gesture, and released the child, somewhat calmer. – Where have you been? Do you know what a horror you did cause for your poor old father, eh?

\- Erik… - The doctor tried to calm him down a bit.

\- Don't hush me. You can't imagine where in Hell did I already search for her. I was at the police, at most of the hospitals, in the morgue…

\- I was at school. – She admitted softly.

\- She came with us. – Noel added.

\- I hadn't seen her. – Erik shook his head.

\- I was sitting on the back of the car.

\- That is extremely dangerous. – He barked.

\- Just as going to school is. – Mahtab said softly.

\- What has happened? – Erik sighed, and guided the child comfortingly to the sofa and sat her on his lap.

\- I don't want to tell. – She bit her malformed lips nervously.

Erik sighed again, and stroke her back comfortingly, and contrary to her being huge and heavy already, he sat her in his arm to carry her outside to the car. He thanked the doctor for the service, for which the good old man did not ask a centime of payment from the worried father, and then Erik gestured to the boys to follow him. Mahtab hugged Papa's neck and laid her head on his shoulder. She so wanted to forget this morning, but it haunted her.

The school was such a new and exciting thing in her life. She had never seen such a building from the inside, and was extremely happy upon running up the stairs to the classroom. She did not know which of the classrooms she should walk in, as she never attended school, but by her age, she should be at another type of school as she felt. None of the other children were as old as her. She just followed Flo, as he walked in a room and sat down next to him.

\- Just sit like this and don't make noise. If you want to say something, raise your hand and wait for the teacher to point at you and then stand up and talk. If you don't do this you will get a hit on your palm by a ruler. – Flo explained softly.

They were a bit late, so the children did not really notice Mahtab as she sat down. They were busy trying to get ready for Math class. Flo's nightmare was about to happen. The bell rang, and the teacher walked in gracefully. He was a tall, quite thin man with short, evenly brushed black hair,a thin and pointy mustache and strict blue eyes. He instantly hit the desk with the ruler as he arrived to the room to silence the class. It was silence as in the grave, and poor little Florian Spöke was praying to the all gods of each religion to be left alone at that class.

The strict and scary demigod opened the book in front of him, looked through it, then pointed at a certain spot on the paper, loudly announcing:

\- Michel Benoit.

His voice thundered through the room, as an order. All the boys let out a small relieved sigh, except the one who stood up from his place and walked to the teacher's desk. He was a short, brown haired and brown eyed, quite pale child, seemingly very nervous. His hands shook as he arrived to the desk. He lowered his head with the sure thought he was going to end his life right at that time and place.

\- Twenty four times forty- five. – The teacher said coldly.

Mahtab did not understand this manner of speaking. She understood only that this boy should calculate the result, but why did the teacher not say "solve this please." , or "will you do it?" , as Papa asked of her always. Can't this man talk nicely? He isn't nice at all. If she just went to Papa and talked to him in this manner, he would scold her for being impolite.

\- Tw-tw-tw-enty-f-f-f… - Michel tried to repeat the question, but his stuttering made it nearly impossible.

The poor thing did stutter. All the time. This fact was extremely funny to the other children and they instantly started laughing at the boy's attempt. Everyone but Mahtab and Flo laughed. The teacher hit the desk with the ruler harder to silence them again.

\- I expect your answer, Benoit. Today. – He added, and looked at the child with a scornful look.

\- Th-th-that e-e-equals… th-that e-e-e-quals…

\- Time is up. – The man groaned. – Show your hand!

\- Pl-pl-please… n-n-no… - The child prayed with growing fear.

\- Your hand! – The diabolic figure ordered once more.

The poor little thing lifted his hand up to receive his well- deserved punishment and closed his eyes to at least not see the ruler, but then came the voice which spared him from pain.

\- Don't hurt him!

It was an unknown voice, coming from a chair close to the wall in the back row. How the teacher hated the back row. There sat the talentless vagabonds. Children sat on the rows depending on their skill levels, and the strict man disliked even the idea to spare a blink at that back row. Charles Gautier, Pierre Ledoux, Florian Spöke, and… wait. Oh those little brats prank him again!

\- Did you dress up the skeleton again and sat it beside the donkeys? – The man yelled out.

\- Don't dare to call my brother a donkey! – Mahtab gasped and jumped up from her seat. – I insist you take it back, and apologize.

Flo knew that there will be a huge scandal out of this. Not only Mahtab dared to talk this way to the teacher, but the way she looks will bring trouble to them. He wasn't wrong. Upon realizing Mahtab wasn't a dressed up skeleton from the supply closet, but a living and talking thing, the teacher dropped the ruler in astonishment and walked to the new pupil. He leaned close to her so their nose would touch if Mahtab had one.

\- Who the Devil are you? – He asked cautiously. – I had never seen a _creature_ like you before.

\- My name is Mahtab. – She announced.

\- Mahtab? What kind of name is that?

\- Persian. – She stated. – And the answer you were looking for is 1. 080.

\- Add "Monsieur" at the end… - Flo wanted to warn her softly, but he shut his face instantly when the teacher looked in his way.

\- So… this… _thing_ said you were _its_ brother. – He pointed at Flo.

\- She is my sister, Monsieur. – Flo whispered.

\- _She_? – The teacher raised his brows. – She doesn't really look like a girl… but if it is the case, you shall go home and learn to knit. This school, if you weren't informed, are only for boys.

\- I AM a boy. – Mahtab stated. – I stay.

\- No, you aren't. – The man caught her by the collar and walked to the door, pulling her. – You are not scaring the boys here. They need to learn and they can't concentrate because of your hideousness.

Mahtab found herself outside the room in a blink of an eye and she sat down on a bench sadly. She was waiting for the class to end and to meet her brothers again. She did not know what to do. She was wondering about those words the teacher used to describe her. Just like in an earlier memory of hers… she recalled a train… many people… running and hiding…

She did not realize the bell rang and suddenly many kids stormed out of the classrooms all over the school. Unexpectedly a bag hit her shoulder and she heard a loud gasp.

\- God! What is this…?

\- Look, that skeleton!

\- Death!

\- Ugh, how ugly!

She saw many kids around her in circles, shouting, laughing at her and a few of them poked her, hit her and… some of them spat in her face. They used disgusting words to describe her. Their voices rang in her ear as a chaotic symphony of hatred and malice. Everything happened so fast. She screamed in fright, and tried to run like a wounded animal, but they got in her way, closing all paths from her. There were adults walking around them, and one of them ran to help her, but as he saw her face, he gasped and ran in the opposite direction. Noel appeared in the crowd, kicking, biting and hitting the ones that were hitting Mahtab the most. Once a boy caught and bit Mahtab, then punched her in the face a few times.

And then…

She lost it.

Finally, she got enough courage to fight back, once in her life. She did not dare to do so earlier when people were hostile towards her… she only just wanted to run and hide, like a scared little animal, but at that very moment she understood why Papa told her to fight. If she doesn't do it, they won't stop. She collected her strength and sent a kick in the boy's stomach, causing him to lose his balance and fall backwards. He hit his head in a windowsill, and did not get up.

The children got horrified of Mahtab's aggressive reaction, and finally ran away to their classrooms. The boy got up as well, blood was trickling from a wound on the back of his head, and he walked away just like a dog who was beaten up.

She did not recall what has happened after that. She only regained her clear mind at the doctor's office. But why did she receive such a treatment? She did not even say a single word to hurt them. She only wanted to go to school to learn… just like her brothers. Why do they attack him when all she wanted to do was just to be like everyone else? Why did the grown up man not help her? Why? Why was it all right to hit her? Why can't she live normally?

She just did not go away from Erik's heels at home, clinging to his hand all the time. She felt insecure, scared and clueless. Erik hardly ever could get rid of her to go to do his business. That terrified little thing did seek for his emotional support more than she ever did in her life. He, yet Mahtab did not tell him what was going on, could figure out the happenings at school by himself, and later the boys informed him as well. He knew that Mahtab will have nightmares about the happenings, as he went through the same thing, many times in his life. He did not scold or punish the child any more, as he thought the incident at the school wasn't only enough, but too much of a punishment. He hushed the crying thing, rocked her on his lap, and let her sleep between him and Christine.

They were caring a lot more for her, Erik cooked Mahtab's favorite meals to balance a bit of happiness with the horrible feelings she had. Christine blamed herself a bit for the happenings. If all the children were homeschooled, as Erik wished it to be, Mahtab would not have felt bad about not going to school, and she wouldn't have been tempted to follow her brothers.

Well, the boys finished their schooling in that primary school as well, just as Mahtab.

The boy whose head Mahtab did accidentally wound told his parents about he met a horrid creature and that one did it to him. Thanks to the Math teacher, Monsieur Leblanc, some of the parents got the information that the Spöke kids brought the monster to school, and were threatenng the director they would take their children out from school, as they felt in a potential danger the creature might return to kill the boys. The director chose the easier way – he dismissed Florian and Noel.

Erik and Christine felt it an iniquitous act, but did not fight against it, fearing the parents will find Mahtab's location, and do terrible things, especially if they got to know Erik had the same look. They could set the house on fire, they could beat Mahtab up, and maybe kill Erik if he were to defend her. They really did not wish that to happen.

Yet Erik knew they have to go to another school to study. Really, if they wanted to go to University, they needed primary then secondary school. That scenario was so awkward, but Mahtab never asked about going to school again. She accepted her fate.

After a few days and night spent in constant angst and in endless nightmares, sometimes wetting the bed in fear, she finally started to get back to her old self. She was thankful that Erik did not scold her for bedwetting, she was ashamed enough of that. Erik knew exactly how she felt, and did not want to make the same mistake as his mother did with him. She would beat him up anytime he had an accident caused by his nightmares and made him clean up the mess he made. Those accidents did not cease to happen up until very late with Erik – he had them by the age of 8, when he finally ran away from home. They disappeared for Mahtab when she calmed down a bit after some days passed.

One morning, a week after the incident, she walked to Erik in the morning, looked at him in the eye with a sudden determination, took his hand and softly asked:

\- Papa, please… teach me how to fight.


	54. Chapter 54

Erik had returning disagreements with Christine about Mahtab's new lessons. Erik taught her how to defend herself if someone wants to attack. It wasn't always fun, as at first, Mahtab accidentally received bigger hits from Papa than what she was prepared for. She had some green or blue spots all over her body because of fist fights. Erik felt sorry for accidentally abusing his daughter, but he tried to comfort himself by the thought that strangers would not be as merciful towards her as he was. Later, as she got more skilled, it was Erik who had to suffer. Once Mahtab successfully hit her elbow against his stomach as he attacked from behind. It did not make him feel too well, to tell the truth.

And it wasn't the only problem. The child wished for a weapon. And Erik was willing to give her one.

\- Are you crazy? – Christine yelled when she noticed Erik making some kind of string. She did not know what it was, but it did not look trustworthy at all. – What are you doing again?

\- Just something for Mahtab.

\- What does Mahtab do with a violin string?

\- It is not a violin, but a cello string. You are a daughter of a violinist, and a wife of another violinist, so it is already time for you to know the difference.

\- Then what does Mahtab do with a cello string?

\- If things go by lucky ways, she does not have to use it for anything, but just in case, she will have one.

\- One WHAT?

\- One cello string if she actually wants to have one.

\- Erik, I hate when you talk like this. Tell me, honestly, what this thing is for!

\- It is none of your business, Christine, you should be happy you never were in the situation to be forced to use it.

\- Erik, is that the thing you… you… the corps de ballet were… did you kill Buquet by _this_?

\- At first: Not by this, as this wasn't made back then, I only got it done right now. Secondly, I did not actively take part in his death. I had found him dead.

\- Monst….

\- All right, I am a monster! You married me. You knew about my past back then as well. Why did you not marry the Viscount and return to Erik after you left if you did not wish to live with a monster eh?

\- You are not giving deadly weapons to my daughter!

\- I have already told you she won't use it, only if it is necessary.

\- You are turning her just the way you are!

\- Which is the thing she needs with a face like hers. Christine, I already told you when she was born that it is something we can't overlook and avoid. You did not allow me to put a mask on her. Fine, but then she has to learn how to fight for her life. Do you still not understand it after twelve years? What else should happen to her until you get it?

\- Oh Erik… I wish… I wish she did not have to do this…

\- I do wish as well. But people are not merciful. She shouldn't be either.

\- But…

\- No but, Christine. I wear the pants in this issue. If you wish to leave me for that, it is your choice. I love you, more than my life, but I won't let your naïve blindness get my daughter in danger one more time. I had been tolerant for twelve years, but people won't change. I did not act out until now as I was afraid I will lose you forever, but now I realized I had to watch my child's safety first. Twisted every way- if you let Mahtab turn out to be a defenseless little naïve flower, she will suffer a lot because of hatred. If I teach her to fight and be tougher, she turns out to be more like Erik, which is sad – but we have no choices in between.

\- But… at least tell her… it is not right.

\- I will have a serious talk to her about that matter.

\- Maybe I should talk to her about it too?

\- Do as you wish, but don't deny her from it.

\- Erik, what if she… kills someone?

\- Accidents happen.

\- Really? Is that your only answer? If I accidentally squeeze my pillow against your face…?

\- Do it quietly, as I am annoyed if I am woken up at night.

\- Erik I can't talk to you seriously.

\- What should I say to that, really? You exactly know that I was in that situation. No, I don't regret it still. Each person I had killed deserved their fate. Buquet was a miserable accident, so was Count Philippe. The only people I wished to kill in the Torture Chamber were Raoul and the Persian cop. But in the end I did not. I know it is not an excuse, but I don't really care. I am tired of constantly apologizing for my past.

\- But you are going to teach our child how to murder someone, so you are just about to ruin her future.

\- People are afraid of Punjab string. If she shows them some skills, she does not have to use it for killing mostly. There were very few idiots that attacked me even after I showed them some tricks. If you are threatening enough, they will just run away.

\- I did not want this thing in her life.

\- I am not amused of it either, but she will only receive it if she leaves the house. She isn't allowed to play with it. She can harm herself or the other children.

\- At least you have some common sense left. – Christine sighed tiredly, then walked away, so she doesn't even have to witness the first lesson.

Mahtab liked the Punjab string a lot. It was much easier to get things with it, as she practiced the aiming. She was able to pull smaller objects close to herself, and it was fascinating to watch what Papa can do with it. He either used it as a whip, or very quickly twisted it around in the air, which gave an awesome sound and sight for her. She understood though that it was dangerous so she did not try to touch it when she wasn't in training with it with Erik's caretaking. Erik always locked the thing away in his study to the secret drawer so the boys won't find it and try it out, it was extremely dangerous because of Noel's curious behavior.

Noel and Flo were temporarily out of school, and homeschooled by Erik until the parents could find another one for them. Though it was a sad thing they were kicked out of their old school, Erik and Christine both agreed in they would have needed to take them out of this school if the director did not make this decision, as they were afraid the boys would suffer from bullying because of the one day Mahtab spent at school with them.

Erik, with a sorrowful heart, and with most careful wording, had to explain Mahtab that she wasn't allowed to accompany her brothers to school any more, as it would be dangerous to the boys and herself as well. Mahtab admitted that she did not want to go there again, under any circumstances. Erik felt sorry for her, but found it the best solution ever.

One day, when they expected it the least, they had a visitor. As the doorbell rang and Christine opened the door, she saw a small boy standing there, with his hat in his hands. He shyly looked up at Christine with his huge brown eyes and softly asked.

\- G-g-g-ood day, Ma-ma-ma-dame, does Flo li-live h-h-h-ere?

\- Florian? Yes, he is my son. – Christine nodded. – And who are you?

\- My n-n-ame is Michel B-B-Benoit, Ma-ma-ma-dame.

\- Oh, are you Flo's little friend? – Christine inquired happily. – Come in, sweetie, I am sure he will be happy to see you!

Michel walked in with the so kind lady to the house. He had never seen such a beautiful home before. They had so expensive looking furniture and nicely decorated walls and things he couldn1t even name.

\- Come my dear, Flo is practicing in the music room. – Christine kindly showed the way upstairs where the small guest was able to hear the sound of a violin. He did not dare to enter the room or knock on the door, so he just stood there clueless of what to do now. Christine saw the little one's hesitation, so she knocked on the door instead of him, then opened the door slightly.

\- Flo, dear, you have a guest!

Flo turned around to see who had disturbed him during practice. It wasn't a usual thing, as not even Erik bothered him while he was playing. But he became happy, seeing his dear classmate and friend again.

\- Michel! - He ran to him, shaking his hand. – I am happy you came.

\- I am h-h-happy to see y-y-you too.

\- What do you wish to play? Should we play with marbles? Hide and seek…?

\- I am here to a-a-ask why you are n-n-not at s-s-s-school? I am wo-worried… I miss you.

\- I miss you too. I only know that we are not allowed to go there again.

\- Then I am n-n-ot allowed to see y-y-you a-a-a-gain?

\- You can come here and visit me as you did now. Anytime. – Flo smiled. – At least now my Papa teaches me to do Math. He doesn't hit my hand.

\- I-i-is your s-s-s-ister all r-r-right? – Michel looked at his shoes.

\- She is. – Flo nodded. – She now got healed and is happy again.

\- Where is s-s-she?

\- In our room, I think. Do you want to see her?

\- Y-y-yes.

Flo nodded, but asked his friend not to scare Mahtab as she is afraid of strangers. When they arrived to the room, Mahtab recognized Michel. She sat down on her bed and pulled up her knees in front of her face defensively, and tried to recall if she saw this boy among the ones that hurt her, but as she did not, she slowly straightened out. The boy stood next to the bed and reached out his small hand for a handshake.

\- I am s-s-s-orry if I s-s-s-scared you. – He said. – I was s-s-sorry to see what the o-o-others did to you. You s-s-saved me f-f-from the b-b-b-eating. T-t-thank you.

\- Oh… - Mahtab smiled. – I did not want the teacher to hit you. You did not deserve it… Are you not afraid of me? – She asked hesitantly.

\- I kn-know what it is l-l-like to be t-t-t-teased and hit because of s-s-s-something you can't do about. Boys hit me b-b-b-because I stu-stu-stutter. And you b-b-because you look like that.

Michel looked at Mahtab with compassion. She took his hand and they made a friendly handshake.

\- Do you wish to be my friend? – Mahtab asked.

\- Y-y-yes. – Michel nodded. – A-a-a-t last I have t-t-t-two fr-fr-friends! – He hugged Flo and Mahtab close to himself, being utterly happy.

Erik, who cautiously watched the children from the hall, sighed and wiped his forehead in relief, then put on his human mask to be able to show his better face if the children leave the room to explore the house. The four children, Mahtab, Florian, Noel and Michel were joyfully playing together. They played with marbles, with Mahtab's toy train, they were playing hide and seek, and many more enjoyable things.

Christine asked Michel if he wanted to eat some biscuits and have some coco at tea-time, as the children were always treated with it. The boy swallowed as his mouth watered at the mention of such delicious things, so he agreed. He never got coco at home, or very rarely received biscuits. He felt so good at the family's house. It was so peaceful, and filled with love.

Despite Mahtab's appearance, she wasn't hurt at home as he thought so. If he looked like that, his father would most likely lock him in the outhouse or somewhere else so he did not have to see him. Even smaller things were enough for his father to get upset. At last, for one afternoon he did not have to hide from him, and be upset about what he will receive a beating for. Father beat him up so often. He was always mad, and or drunk. He was able to get to the Spöke family now only because of Father was at work, then he sure will visit the tavern before arriving home. It will be late in the evening when he returns. He had no mother. She died while giving birth to him, and Michel knew his father blamed him for that.

When supper ended, he thanked the family for the kindness, then quickly left, as he explained, his father would arrive home soon, and he had to be home to greet him.

\- What a nice little boy. – Christine smiled at Erik when they remained just the two of them.

\- Poor little thing. – Erik sighed.

\- Why do you say that?

\- This kid is beaten.

\- How do you know?

\- I noticed by his behavior. He did not dare to take biscuits only if you or I told him to do so. He was afraid of beating. And the way he talks about his father… he fears him. And the stuttering… these are signs. This child had suffered many traumas in his short life.

\- This is horrible. – Christine looked away in shock.

\- It is, but sadly we can do nothing more than to be kind to him during his visits. It will give him a slice of the happiness he, or any child on Earth should have. – Erik sighed.

Michel was a guest at the Spöke house often. Anytime he could sneak there, he did. Erik wanted to help him with the stuttering, so he asked him to sing instead of speaking, or to talk slower. Michel enjoyed these singing lessons with the other children involved, and after some time his speech got better. Erik knew it would help, as he succeeded in curing himself by this method. He was surprised how naturally he now helped others. He never imagined it was such a good feeling. The child opened up to them as he felt more and more comfortable, and told many things about him he was ashamed to tell anyone else. Erik, as an abused child himself, did give advice to poor little Michel as how to cope with it, and how not to anger his father, and the boy had to face the beatings lessened because he was able to live in peace with father because of Erik's advices.

In late February of 1898, Christine had to announce an important news.

She was thinking a lot if she just should tell it to Erik at first, or she should just tell it during a breakfast to the whole family. She then thought the younger children were still too small for that, well, at least Noel. But such a miracle can't be hidden like this any longer, she was sure of that, and she did not want to keep it as a secret as she did before. She knew Erik's anger was understandable in that situation, so she had to talk to him.

She was just waiting for the right occasion.

Erik did not have a legitimate Birthday that year, but Christine celebrated it for him anyway. Erik stated he did not wish to have a big deal out of it in the years when he "wasn't aging", so it was just a simple day with more kindness.

In the end of the day yet, after even Mahtab went to bed, as she now had an extra hour before bedtime, being 12 years old, she was now sent to bed at only ten instead of nine in the evening like the others, and the parents retired to their bedroom, Christine kissed Erik on the cheek and whispered in his ear that she had another gift for him.

\- What is it? – He asked curiously.

\- Close your eyes. – She whispered in excitement.

\- Oh, will you perhaps sit on Erik's lap, wearing… well nothing? – He grinned. – As it is the case I don't wish to close my eyes, on the contrary.

\- Oh, you naughty man! – Christine giggled. – No… Just close them, will you?

\- As you wish, my dear Christine.

\- But don't look!

\- No- no, just show it already!

He felt nothing for a time, and could hear Christine opened one of the drawers of the Louis- Philippe dresser, he wondered why, but after some minutes Christine told him she may now open his eyes. As he did so, he noticed some kind of cloth on his lap. He lifted it up to see what that may be, and he realized with surprise that it was a small shirt. On the front there was an embroidered text with Christine's stunningly beautiful cursive. It said:

"It became a quartet."

Erik could not spit or swallow for some seconds, then looked at the exuberantly happy mother to be, and he just wheezed:

\- God in Heaven… another one…?

Christine misunderstood Erik's astonishment and horror for him being touched by the big news so she just nodded excitedly and kissed Erik all over the cheeks and forehead while the man just held the baby shirt with shaky hands.


	55. Chapter 55

Christine was waiting for the new family member to arrive. She was eager to hold the new baby in her hands, and tried to imagine its face in front of her all the time. She had the habit of trying to imagine the newcomer's gender, face and habits. She was mostly wrong, though. She, for example, never imagined Mahtab to be boyish, or Noel to be so fascinated by fire and magic tricks. She imagined this new baby growing in her as a girl, a lovely little girl with blue eyes and maybe some blondish hair, as most of her children seemed to inherit her hair color instead of their father's. She was excitedly discussing name ideas with Erik, but they could not agree. Which name she liked, Erik disliked, and vice versa.

\- Lotte. – Chrstine stated. – Little Lotte.

\- No.

\- Then suggest a name. – She moaned. – You seem like you are not even interested in our new baby.

\- I am. – Erik answered shortly. – I can't get it out of my head.

It was true. Erik was constantly thinking of the new baby as well, but not in the way Christine would want it. He was so tired of young children. He felt like he had spent enough time already with newborns, and took his part of feeding, bathing, changing diapers for a lifetime. He was happy that his youngest child was already old enough to take care of himself, and he disliked the thought to start it all over at the age of 66. What on Earth was Christine thinking? Why was he able to still father a child at this age? Really, whenever he gets intimate with his wife, however rarely it may happen, Christine gets pregnant. Just like the goddamned rabbits, this family is multiplying.

\- Whenever Erik removes his pants, he becomes a father! – He complained to the Persian. No one but him knew of the new pregnancy other than Erik and Christine. Erik wanted to vent to someone about his uneasy feelings, but he did not want the children to get to know about the new family member. He somehow had bad feelings about the happenings and was extremely superstitious about the issue of having children. He always was nervous about the new child's looks. The best pregnancy was the third, which he did not know about up until the day of the birth. Waiting always wore him out.

Even worse it was, as this pregnancy wasn't going well for Christine.

To tell the truth, it was the worst of the four she was going through.

Christine was a strong woman who handled moderate pain well, so anytime when she was visibly in pain, did alarm Erik a lot, as he exactly knew his wife wasn't a cry- baby. He was sure she handled pain better than him, yet he sure received more beatings, but she had more self-control.

Now she was suffering, visibly. She was feeling sick most of the time, had horrible morning sicknesses with endless vomiting, and weakness making her nearly unable to stand up from the bathroom floor by herself, needing Erik's help, she sometimes lost her consciousness, fell, and once she was bleeding from the womb. Dr. Bonsanté was afraid Christine might lose the baby, so he ordered her to rest as much as possible. She wasn't allowed to stand up, only if it was necessary, otherwise she had to stay in bed. In May, at the sixth month of the pregnancy, she was starting to get water weight and her ankles got extremely swollen. Erik was worried as this fact meant nothing good. Erik, somewhat knowing about medical issues himself, and reading many books about the subject of childbirth while Christine's pregnancies, he knew this sign could mean a problem with the fetus. The child drinks from the amniotic fluid, so part of it always disappears, but if the child can't swallow for some reason, it might happen that water collects in the mother's tissues.

The children were alarmed, of course, seeing their mother in this state, which made her unable to go to work or even take care of them, but Erik tried to comfort them by telling Mama will be all right, she is just a bit of ill. Christine wanted to tell the children about the new brother or sister they will get, but Erik did not want her to. Let it be a surprise, he told Christine. In reality, he was afraid the child won't survive, so they should not be prepared for a sibling.

Raoul and Yvette, as they learned about the news, and extremely felt sorry for both Erik and Christine, but now, especially Erik, who had to take care of a seriously ill wife and 3 children, they offered help for Erik. They wanted to take all the children to their home for the time Christine regains her strength, and Erik only had to attend her side, and concentrate on her, without the children. Yet Erik did not like to accept offers such as these, he finally agreed, as he wasn't a young man any more, and he wanted to collect his strength to nurse his wife correctly. The children accepted their fate without a word, and were partly happy they could spend time at the de Chagny house, with Sophie and small Philippe. Flo did not like to admit, but he had a crush on Sophie anyway, so it was always a pleasure to be around her.

\- Behave. – Erik patted their heads as they got into Raoul's carriage. – Be good children and do as Tonton Raoul and Tatie Yvette say, will you? Papa is going to visit whenever it is possible. Don't worry, everything is going to be fine. Mahtab… please take care of the younger ones.

\- I will Papa.

\- You are the oldest, be the smartest.

\- Will do, Papa.

\- Florian, dear, you still have to practice mathematics. Tonton Raoul will give you problems to solve, and you have to obey and not throw a tantrum. Act as you were home with mt. Understood?

\- Yes, Papa. – Flo nodded, but in his mind he was screaming. Oh no, the Math accompanies him even to the de Chagny house.

\- And you, Noel, - Erik lifted the youngest one up and kissed his forehead. – Don't set anything on fire. And behave as a gentleman. Let me be proud of you.

\- Don't worry, Papa. – He smiled and kissed Erik back.

\- Take care of Mama! – Mahtab said, as Erik helped Noel in the carriage next to her.

\- I will. – He nodded, as he crawled back outside. – Thank you, Raoul. – He shook Raoul's prosthetic hand with a tired and sad expression in his eyes.

As the carriage rode away, Erik stood there alone for a few minutes, trying to follow it, firstly with his eyes, and after, his mind. He already missed his children, but he knew this solution will temporarily be best for everyone. With a deep sigh coming from the depth of his tortured soul, he dragged himself back in the house to see how his sweet Christine was doing.

He was only alone with Christine for a few days though, as the Daroga moved into the guestroom to be there when the time comes to either run for the doctor, or take watch over Christine while Erik does so. To tell the truth, Erik was relieved about that, as he needed emotional comfort, and the Daroga always relieved his uneasy feelings with chess plays in the evenings. Mohammed- Ismael was completely self- sufficient, so he did not cause trouble for Erik, but was there if needed.

Erik blamed himself for Christine's misfortune. He, even though accidentally and involuntarily, did cause all the pain and suffering to Christine. It was painful to see how awful his dear and sweet wife was feeling. He prayed for her and promised in his mind for a thousand times that he will never ever make love to Christine if she gets better once. He really did cause misfortune to each and every females in his life. Oh, at first… Suzanne, and after… his poor unhappy mother was sad because of him, he murdered Bisous, the dog, and then Mahtab in Persia was sentenced to death because of, and finally murdered by him, and…he … caused the death of that poor woman also… Annabelle.. When she removed his mask… why did Annabelle had to remove it…? Why? Those cries… he just wished her to go silent… and… she was too silent… and Mahtab… his poor daughter inherited his looks… and Christine, poor, poor Christine how much she has to suffer because of Erik…

\- Erik… Erik… wake up!

He felt a weak grip on his shoulder as someone tossed him gently. He opened his eyes, sitting up in bed with shock.

\- Is it time? – He jumped out of bed. – Are you feeling sick…? Where the Hell are my pants?

\- Erik… you just had a nightmare and were crying in your sleep. – Christine explained tiredly.

\- So… you are not going to give birth?

\- No, not yet.

\- Sure? – Erik whimpered.

\- Sure.

\- Good. – Erik yawned in a bad mood then lay back down with a sigh.

\- Erik…?

\- Yes?

\- Who is Suzanne?

\- A girl.

\- And Annabelle?

\- Who…?

\- Annabelle. You were talking about her and Suzanne.

\- She is my mistress. – Erik groaned and turned away in distress. – She is also expecting a child from Erik as he is Don Juan Triumphant! And so is Suzanne! Everyone is Erik's mistress! He is Don Juan Triumphant! He makes love to whole Paris every day. He is such a handsome man, he can do it.

\- You are nasty! – Christine sent a kick towards Erik's leg, but she missed.

\- Leave me alone. – He hissed. – I want to sleep.

\- You don't let me sleep with your whining, then you get sarcastic! You are mean!

\- You are annoying me with your constant jealousy. If I accidentally whimper a woman's name in my nightmare, you start accusing me of adultery.

\- I did not… I just wanted to know who it was. She must have been important to you if you mention her subconsciously. I have the right to know about your issues. You also know about mine.

\- Don't start this, Christine, God bless you, at 2 in the morning…

\- Erik, it was you who brought up the subject.

\- Next time I am going to put a cloth in my goddamned mouth before sleeping, so I won't talk.

\- Erik, please, I can't sleep until you tell me.

\- All right! – Erik sprung up in a sitting position in bed, and sent a glance towards Christine with which he could have stabbed her, then sighed. – You want a bedtime story! So: You thought Erik was an only child, right? Well, no. Suzanne was my twin sister, her face was like a painting, she was the beautiful little girl, and me, the horrid monster, and she wasn't alive by the time of her birth! She came first, and after some minutes, I entered the world, which caused my father to get a heart attack and die at the sight of my face. My sister was dead as a doorknob, and I had some kind of problem as well, as I only cried out when mother kicked me off of the bed. Well, to be short, I lived my life in my childhood with Mother's constant accusations that I had murdered two people by the moment of my goddamned and unwanted birth! She also kept crying about why… why me… why not she stayed alive… and I think she was right!

\- No, Erik… of course not…

\- So… my stillborn sister was named Suzanne, and buried in the cemetery, with my father, on the very same day. People thought she had only one child, who passed away. I did not get a name, and did not even exist to other people, and when we had visitors, I lived in the cellar for days. Are you satisfied?

\- Oh Erik… I did not know you had a sister…

\- Now you do.

\- I am sorry for asking.

\- Do you wish to hear Annabelle's story as well, or this was enough for today?

\- Enough… - She whispered.

\- Exactly I feel like this as well. – Erik moaned. – Excuse me, I… I just… need to get up. Good night.

Erik got up and left the bedroom without another word and slammed the study's door behind his back. He threw himself on the couch and closed his eyes. He wanted to clear his mind out to feel and remember nothing at all. He found out he wasn't able to fall back to sleep so he dragged himself to the cabinet in which he kept his medicines. He took a huge sip of laudanum and crawled back on the couch and finally passed out.

Christine felt extremely guilty about the scene between her and Erik. She should have learned by this time that she should not ask Erik about his past. It gives him so much pain and more and more horrible events come up to the surface about his life. And why would Erik cheat on her, really? And why was she jealous of the women in Erik's past when he was a devoted and loving husband? She could not understand herself. If she wasn't feeling so miserable, she would make up to it.

Thankfully, Erik woke up in a much better mood after sleeping through the whole night in a dreamless slumber, and apologized to Christine for being irritated. Christine was touched and she also asked for Erik's forgiveness about being jealous and torturing him.

\- Oh, you could not know…- He placed the tray on her lap with the breakfast he had prepared for her. – I over reacted, which happens if I talk about my past.

\- I understand. And I promise I will never ask about Annabelle, or anything in the past you don't wish to talk about.

\- Thank you. – Erik sighed in relief. - And I promise to be calmer if I can.

\- Erik, may I ask something?

\- Sure, my dear, but you should eat as well. – Erik pointed at the food. – You are going to need strength for today.

\- I will, just… please answer truthfully.

\- I will.

\- How do you really feel when we are expecting? I seemed to think you are happy about it, but last night, after I found out what had happened to your sister, I wonder if you are ever worried.

\- You wished me to tell the truth. – Erik started cautiously. – So Erik is going to tell. But Christine shall promise she will not be angry with Erik about what she has to hear.

\- So you are not happy. – Christine looked at him uneasily.

\- I am. I mean, I like children since we have them. They have their good side. But each of your pregnancies is a nightmare to Erik as he is always worried. He worries about both your and the child's health, and the child's… face.

\- Understandable, Erik, I am not angry, but why did you not tell me? Sadly I did not notice your worry, and so I wasn't able to help you.

\- Erik was afraid Christine will hate him for not being completely happy about having a new child. – He admitted softly.

\- So you just collected your frustration in your soul? – She inquired sadly.

\- The Daroga always listens when Erik needs to vent.

\- Erik… Christine listens as well. Please feel free to come to me with everything that bothers you. Will you?

\- He will. – He nodded and caressed her face with his hand. – I love you.

\- I love you too, Erik. – She smiled.

On the 14th June, after two more weeks of better or worse days, in only the seventh month of the pregnancy, Christine could not fight more. Time had arrived. Erik, in complete horror, ran to fetch the doctor. He came right away, as he knew Christine had a complicated pregnancy, and the child was coming way too early. Only in August it should have arrived.

\- Doctor… - Erik dragged the doctor's cloak nervously.

\- Yes? – He turned back.

\- If you have to choose between Christine and the child… save Christine. – He asked.

\- Erik was sent out of the bedroom, as the Doctor thought he would only panic and be in the way, so he retired to next to the Daroga in his study. He was too nervous to play chess with his friend, so he was just stimming and praying. He bit his lip until it bled and he bit off all his nails. The Persian sometimes patted Erik's shoulder to comfort him, but the ex- Opera Ghost did not seem to notice his friend's presence in the room.

Christine cried as she was being murdered, and Erik always wanted to jump up to protect her from whichever pain, but after some time, she fell silent. He was listening, but no crying could be heard any more. God… she was too silent… Erik hated this much silence… God, don't make Christine go all silent…. Forever…

After endless hours, the doctor walked out of the bedroom and knocked on the door to the study. Erik walked there as a zombie, and opened it mechanically, then noticing the doctor's expression, he already knew something was terribly wrong.

\- Erik… I have bad news. – He lowered his head.

\- Christine…? – He whispered nearly inaudibly.

\- Well, Christine is… in a bad shape, but she will be better soon.

\- She is not dead…?

\- No. And she will stay alive. Erik, she lost some blood and… and has fever. She is weak.. This pregnancy was much too complicated and… she lost her consciousness and has to be left alone for a time, and should not be bothered… the smallest of excitement can cause her state to go worse. – He sighed.

\- And the child? – Erik asked monotonously.

\- Well… it is the bad news. – Bonsanté cleared his throat. – Erik, the child…

\- Died?

\- Not yet. – He answered. – But it will. Look, it…. It is not… not…

\- Not strong enough for life. – Erik completed the sentence.

\- Exactly.

\- Does Christine know about it?

\- No. She is unconscious.

\- Don't tell her.

\- I won't. – Bonsanté nodded. – It could cause her to suffer more, she needs to stay the calmest possible.

\- Is it sure it can't be saved?

\- Sadly no. – The doctor shook his head.

\- Boy or girl?

\- Boy.

\- May I see him? – Erik asked.

\- Erik, before you see him… there is something else you should know.

\- Let me guess: he inherited… someone's looks in the family.

\- Exactly. – Bonsanté nodded ominously. – Do you still want to see him?

\- Yes. – Erik sighed. – He is my son after all.

The doctor arrived back with the naked, extremely small child in his hand. The baby was white as wax, had no nose and those sunken cat-eyes as Erik. The skeletal frame was too well- known as well, and seemingly it was barely alive even at that very moment. He was wheezing and sometimes choking, which fact indicated he had some problems with his lungs. The only thing he was able to do was blinking sometimes, but not a single cry left his lips.

As the doctor left, after promising he will return later to check on Christine, Erik was left alone with his small dying look – alike. He sighed and started crying silently as he was rocking it in his arms back and forth. As he was examining his horrid features, he involuntarily started stroking the baby's cheek and walked to the children's room to spent some alone time with the baby. He wanted to hold him until the very last moment, and enjoy their time the most he could. He was singing Brahms's Lullaby to the baby, who just wheezed in his arms, and after a time, the golden stars in a baby skull closed and did not reopen again. Erik slowly lifted the baby up to his ears and listened at his chest, but he could hear nothing. He burst out in a painful sob, and hugged the dead little thing close to himself, rocking it back and forth. After he calmed down a bit, he kissed the baby's forehead for the first and last time, and whispered:

\- Sweet dreams, Beau. Sweet, sweet dreams.

He slowly placed the child on the pillow at one of the beds, and walked back to the study to the Daroga. He dropped on his knees, and started sobbing uncontrollably for a time, while the Daroga just made an attempt to hush him.

\- Now what… what should Erik do…? What should he… tell Christine… ?

When he finally calmed down and composed himself enough to visit Christine in the bedroom, he tried to look and talk as naturally as he could in the given situation.

\- How are you feeling my angel? – He asked, noticing Christine's opened eyes.

\- Tired. – She sighed. – And… where is the baby…?

\- I put it down… to sleep.

\- I am afraid.

\- Of what, my dear?

\- I won't be able to feed him… I have no milk.

\- Oh… that isn't a problem, dear. – Erik replied. – We are going to raise him on gruel.

\- Gruel?

\- Yes, babies who aren't fed with breast milk for some reason, are kept on gruel. Mother fed me with that as well, as she refused to breastfeed me, and as you see, I survived quite well. – He smiled bitterly.

\- I am calm then. – Christine closed her eyes again.

\- Just sleep my angel… sleep. – He whispered sadly, then left.

In the evening Erik bundled the tiny corpse in a blanket and took it to the nearby forest to dig a grave for him. He would not want to give it to the undertakers, as he had the sad feeling they would laugh at his miserable little son, and anyway, he wasn't registered anywhere. He did not exist at all. He was born and he died without anyone knowing about his existence other than the Daroga, the doctor, and Erik. The small grave was dug, and he placed the bundle down in it, then buried it underground and sang a Requiem for him, fighting back his tears.

\- Now what should I do…? – He cried. – How should I tell this to Christine…? How in God's name am I going to show her the child she is expecting to see…?

As he was walking back to his car, his heart heavy by grief, he suddenly heard something strange. At first he mistook it just by the sound of some animal, perhaps a cat. Yes, it sounded like a cat's whining when it is hungry. But after some moments the cry got stronger. It was a baby's cry. Now he could hear it for sure. Did he lose his mind finally and heard a baby's cry in his mind? Or… was it really a baby crying…? Can it be his son wasn't dead at all and now he was crying? But no, the sound did not come from the direction of the freshly dug grave, but from further in the forest. What the Hell? Cautiously, mainly for the reason to find out if he turned out mad, he walked closer to the sound, and it got stronger and stronger as he got closer to it.

Finally it reached to a bush. Under the bush there was a tiny thing moving and the cry of the baby was the loudest right there. Erik leaned down and reached down to touch the thing, and suddenly he felt skin. Yes, bare skin of a human. Erik lifted the tiny human up and looked at it closely. It was a baby. A baby girl. She looked like a healthy baby girl, totally naked, as God had created her. Erik examined her carefully from each angles, and then he removed his coat, bundled the tiny thing in it so it won't catch a cold, and took it home with himself, placing it on the car seat next to him.

What a miracle! He needed a healthy child to replace his dead son with it for Christine, and here she is. It is totally the same, even better, as this child has a normal face. What a luck that someone just wanted to get rid of this baby today! Such an awesome replacement. He did not care even if her father was Beelzebub himself. He and Christine expected for a child, and they shall receive one. This thing sure isn't needed by her real family – well, she receives one.

\- Welcome home, Belle. – He cooed as he lifted the child out of the car and kissed her forehead.


	56. Chapter 56

Erik hurriedly carried the small girl in the house as he was afraid she might fall ill in the chillier weather of the summer night, and he did not know how much time had she spent on that cool ground before he found her. He wanted to know her inside the house the fastest he could, and hurried with her to the bathroom to wash her from the dirt she got on her skin. Oh, she was so dirty the poor thing. The tiny girl whimpered a bit in his arms, as she was most likely cold, tired, hungry and in fear. Erik tried to hush her a bit, so that he won't be nagged by the Daroga, but he was soon stopped by familiar baritone, otherwise kind of pleasant, but in these kind of cases, very annoying male voice from behind his back.

\- Erik! What are you doing? - As he turned his head, he noticed Mohammed standing there in the hall in his sleepwear.

\- Just go back to sleep, Daroga, I don't need help.

\- Is that a baby in your hand? – The nosy fathead hurried closer to Erik and noticed the small child hugged close to him.

\- Yes, but as I said, we are perfectly fine, so you should go back to sleep.

\- No, Erik. – The Daroga groaned in displeasure. – Where is that child from? It is not your son…

\- It is a girl.

\- Where did you get a girl child, did you steal her from some…

\- Would you shut your damned face? – Erik caught the Daroga's arm and dragged him to the bathroom and shut the door. – You will wake up Christine.

\- She had searched for you before. – The Daroga sighed.

\- What did you tell her? – Erik asked suspiciously.

\- I tried to save the situation by telling her you were in the bathroom.

\- Good. – He nodded ominously. -As if you dare to say anything, Erik will not be pleased.

\- Erik, where is this child from, I ask again.

\- I found her. – Erik turned on the taps to fill the sink with water to bathe the infant, who had fallen silent in his hands, examining him curiously.

\- Found…? Where?

\- In the forest where I buried Beau.

\- Erik, this child is not yours. Are you going to just raise her instead of your son?

\- Why the Hell would I not? – Erik carefully put the baby in the soapy water, gently rubbing her body.

\- But maybe her parents will search for her…

\- Of course, exactly that is why they left her under a bush in the forest, naked, because they wished to return to get her. – Erik pouted.

\- That very much sounds like she was abandoned. – Mohammed admitted. – But still, it is not the right act, Erik. This baby is not just yours to do as you please with her.

\- Why? Should I take it back to the forest for wolves to eat her?

\- No. But you did not want a child if I remember correctly. There are many people who do wish for a baby, you could give her up for adaptation.

\- So you just suggest I take her to the nearest orphanage and leave her to her fate?

\- Erik, it is a crazy idea to adopt a child at this age. You have admitted me you did not want it, you were complaining about being tired and in pain. Why would you do that?

\- For more things. At first, Christine was so excited for a new child. She adores babies and children, and even though she had suffered endlessly during these months, she still wanted the baby. Erik's suffering and inconvenience about a baby is nothing compared to Christine's. If she suffered so much and still wanted a baby, Erik shall want the baby as well, just as much. Secondly, I felt sorry for the poor thing under that bush and I did not wish to leave her there to die. Other times you would have been the first to tell me I was a heartless bastard for leaving her there.

\- I did not say to leave her there, but it is not a right thing to lie to Christine about the baby and tell her it was her child, as you sure wish to do.

\- Why? Is it hurting anyone? You heard the doctor, that level of excitement could easily cause my wife to get more ill. Do you, perhaps, wish to walk in the bedroom and inform her about she gave birth to a half dead child who looked like Erik, and we are already through his funeral, and here, by the way, is a baby girl for replacement?

\- No. It is your job to tell her.

\- I am not telling. What she doesn't know about, isn't going to hurt her.

\- Erik, telling lies about such an important issue is sure a wrong thing to do.

\- I am not telling lies, I am just not telling some unimportant details.

\- What if she finds out by herself?

\- She won't. She doesn't know about Beau, and if she will talk to me about him, I will know who to kill.

\- Erik!

\- I told as I told. – He barked as he washed the tiny child, then dried her with a soft and warm towel. The baby did not like being bathed at first, but after a time she started to enjoy the warm caress of water, and the gentle touches of this kind man.

Erik was mindlessly babbling to her as he caught himself, then he started reciting some nursery rhymes to calm the tiny girl. He found it strange to nurse a baby girl again after these long years, he did have only boys for a time, Mahtab was a baby so long time ago. He smiled at the cute little human, putting a diaper on her, then also dressing her in the baby shirt Christine had shown him on his Birthday. "It became a quartet." It did, indeed.

The next morning, after feeding the baby some warm gruel, when the doctor returned to check on Christine, Erik hurried to him eagerly with the small child in his arm. He excitedly gestured to him to follow him to his study as they needed to talk. The Daroga shook his head in disagreement, but did not say a word. Erik showed the child to Bonsanté to find out her age and if she was healthy. After some minutes of checking, Bonsanté turned to Erik and nodded.

\- She might be a week old, or even less. She is healthy, her lungs are strong and she really looks and acts like a normal baby in her age.

\- Oh thank Heaven! – Erik wiped his forehead with his handkerchief in relief. – And don't tell Christine about… my son.

\- It is a matter of medical secret. A doctor never tells about these issues if not directly asked by the patient.

\- I am glad. – Erik nodded.

When the doctor checked on Christine and informed Erik about his wife being much better, Erik stepped in the bedroom with the baby girl in his hand to finally show her to the mother.

\- Good morning, Christine, my love of my life.

\- Oh, Erik… good morning. You are so good to me. – She smiled. She really looked much better than the day before, her cheeks got redder, and her eyes shone with love and happiness.

\- The doctor told me you were feeling better.

\- I am.

\- So I brought our baby to you to look at her. – Erik sat down to the side of the bed and put the child in Christine's eagerly reached out arms. – Here she is.

\- Oh, how beautiful. – Christine was examining the baby with affection.

The girl had huge blue eyes, as any newborns, and had no hair at all. She was a rosy colored cute little thing, and instantly filled Christine up with love. She pulled her close to herself and kissed the baby's forehead gently, then cooed.

\- Hello there, my sweet little daughter. – After some moments of silence, she seemed to be thinking about something though, and the smile disappeared from her lips.

\- What is wrong, my love? – Erik noticed Christine's sudden mood swing.

\- Nothing, I just… am thinking.

\- Of what, my sweet little wife?

\- Remembered like… our baby was a boy.

\- Boy? Oh no, she is a female, certainly.

\- I remember that the doctor told me it is a boy. I felt lousy, and after I fainted… but I think he said it was a boy.

\- Maybe you don't remember it right, dear, you were exhausted and ill.

\- And… maybe you called the child…" _him'_ as well, when I told you I had no milk…? "We will raise _him_ on gruel…

\- Christine, Erik was exhausted and worried, and he is much used to having boys in his family, maybe this is why he messed up. But this baby is a girl, for sure.

\- Finally I have a little princess. – She smiled widely again. – I can dress her in pink.

\- Of course, my dear, she will have the sweetest dresses ever.

\- Did you name her yet?

\- I am just unintentionally calling her Belle. But if you have a better idea, I am open to it.

\- Belle? – Christine smiled happily. – I think this name suits her completely. She is beautiful as a little angel.

\- I am pleased you like my idea of a name, my dear.

\- Very much so, my husband.- Christine giggled. – Papa. – She added with a small laugh.

\- Oh, yes. – Erik chuckled. – Papa of four small miracles.

The Daroga did not really appreciate the idea of Erik not telling the truth to Christine about the babies, but he could understand it in a way. He knew Erik wanted the best for Christine, and she was weak and sensitive about tragedies in her life, as her father's death still burned her soul and made her cry sometimes. What would happen if she found out her newborn son only survived 2 hours? Maybe it is really better this way as Erik and fate had turned the events? Maybe truth isn't always the best solution?

In a few days Christine got stronger and stronger, and a week had to pass until the doctor finally said Christine was healthy again. Of course she had to take care of herself, but at least she was now free to go all around the house without help as she pleased, and Belle was in perfect health as well. She ate normally and gained weight in the right pace. She was really a cute child, she did not cry a lot like Noel, and thank Heavens, she slept nights through. She did not cause extra trouble. Belle was Erik's dream child. Just the right behavior for such an old father.

The other three children arrived home on 24th June, after a month of absence. Erik missed them dearly, and went to visit them as much as he could, and informed them about their little sister whom they got eager to see. The father was so happy to have them back home, he felt the house so empty without them. They adored baby Belle, and Erik suddenly had an idea how to make babysitting even easier for himself: he noticed Mahtab being extremely fascinated by her sister, and caught her stroking the baby's face often, singing her songs.

\- Mahtab dear… do you like the baby?

\- Yes, very much so. – She nodded.

\- Do you want to help with feeding her?

\- Of course! – She clapped. – Am I allowed to?

\- Yes, now you are old and responsible enough to be allowed to help with nursing a baby.

She was so happy Papa and Mama needed her help in this very important issue. She soon learned how to warm up milk, check its temperature not to be too hot for the baby, changing diapers, and even bathing Belle. Erik was so surprised yet proud of Mahtab that she did not show disgust over changing diapers. She seemed to be so mature about it as a real mother. She loved to dress Belle, and Christine smiled as she heard Mahtab liked how beautiful colored small dresses Belle had. Maybe Belle's wardrobe will make her want to dress like a girl finally as she is supposed to? Having another girl child shall maybe help Mahtab realize the beauty of being a woman?

This illusion shattered though on a beautiful, but really hot afternoon in August. Erik was sitting in his favorite armchair in front of the fireplace in the drawing room, reading a book, and the children were playing around the house. Christine was relaxing on the couch, rocking Belle in her arms, softly humming to her, when they suddenly heard a scream. It was a frightening scream and Erik jumped up from his armchair to investigate what had happened. He ran to the direction from where now he could hear desperate cries for help, and now he was able to realize it was Mahtab.

\- Where are you? What has happened? – Erik asked in horror.

\- In the bathroom… . Mahtab cried.

\- What is wrong? – Erik tried to open the door, but it was closed. – Mahtab, open the door please. I can't help if you lock me out.

\- Papa, I am dying… - She appeared in the halfway opened bathroom door with a pale face.

\- What do you say? What is wrong?

\- I don't know… - She swallowed back some tears. – I am scared.

\- Mahtab what has happened?

\- I am bleeding. – She showed her bloody hands to Erik.

\- Bleeding? Did you cut yourself?

\- No.

\- Then…? Oh God… - Erik slapped his forehead in a sudden realization.

\- Am I going to die soon, Papa?

\- No, dear, it is… completely normal, but please go to Mama and tell her what has happened, will you?

\- Why can't you help me?

\- Because it is not a man's job to take care of such happenings. Mama knows well what it is and will explain.

\- But I am a boy as well, just we should talk as a man to a man.

\- No, Mahtab, you have to talk to your Mama as a girl to a girl. Trust me.

Mahtab washed her hands and walked to Christine to the drawing room to discuss this strange illness that has bothered her. Erik scratched his head. Well, Mahtab was already nearly 13, it could be expected. But why did not Christine tell this to her in advance instead of waiting for her to freak out about her first time? It sure has to be a horror for a girl to find it out, and that was one of the reasons he thanked God to be born as a male. It is really not the father's job to discuss periods with his teen daughter. What are mothers for?

There was some soft talking could be heard from the drawing room, but soon there was another cry then a painful sob on Mahtab's voice. Oh, God, what was that now…?

\- Erik, please come and comfort her. – Christine opened the door.

\- What is wrong?

\- She did not really take it the right way. – Christine sighed.

\- What have you told her?

\- I just told her that it was a totally healthy thing, and it indicated she was a healthy girl, and this is the first step of becoming a woman.

\- And?

\- She cries that she doesn't want bigger breast and blood all over her. She is a boy.

\- Oh, it was to be expected. I try my best to calm her. – Erik sighed then walked into the room.

Mahtab was laying on the couch, her face buried in one of the cushions and sobbed so hard it gave Erik pain in the heart.

\- Mahtab… - He called out softly. – We have to talk.

\- Yes. – She sat up, looking at Erik in fright.

\- Mahtab… what Mama said was true.

\- I don't want it.

\- It is not about wanting it or not, dear. It is just nature. That's how it works. Women and girls have to face this fact and can do nothing about it.

\- But Papa, you told you liked me as a boy.

\- I do. But God created you as a girl. And girls work this way. You have to accept it.

\- Can you do nothing about it? Papa, I don't want my breast turn big. I don't want to bleed in every month. Mama said it happens every month.

\- It does. – Erik nodded.

\- I want to be a boy, have my voice deeper, and walk around in pants.

\- Mahtab you can still walk around in pants. This won't change it, you just have to be prepared of this bleeding. There are things you cannot change, but well we can work on your voice turning deeper with a technique I am going to teach you. It won't ruin your vocal chords, but will make you sound more mature and manlike if you wish.

\- Really? – She dried her eyes.

\- Yes, dear. We will work on things we can help with, but not on the things we cannot. You just have to get used to them, but still can be a boy if you wish. Let's just say you will be a unique man.

\- Sounds better than what Mama said. She said I will turn out to be a woman and my whole body is going to change.

\- Some changes will occur, but you still can be a boy if you want to. It does not matter what your body looks like, it does only matter what you feel.

\- And we really will work on my voice?

\- Yes.

\- Papa…?

\- Yes, Mahtab?

\- There may be something else as well.

\- What else?

\- Papa, real men… so… I don't feel like a real boy until something else changes.

\- What should change?

Mahtab leaned closer to Erik's ear, and softly, nearly inaudibly whispered:

\- I would like to pee standing like you and the boys. On field trips you have so easy jobs, and I always have to squat or sit on the toilet. I don't feel like a boy.

\- Boys sit as well sometimes.

\- But not always.

\- Uh… well… - Erik scratched his head. – If that is what you really want, we can work out a solution.

\- It would mean a lot to me. Boys do that.

\- All right. I will teach you.

All of Christine's hopes and dreams of Mahtab finally will act right as a girl did shatter when she found out that Mahtab now was able to go to the bathroom against a tree just like the boys. She was bragging with it, as it was some kind of great thing to do so. She found it disgusting. Why on Earth would Mahtab do that and how?

\- I can do nothing about Mahtab thinks boys are boys because of the fact they urinate this way. – Erik shrugged. – It is just a new thing she wanted to learn as she wanted to reassure herself of being a boy. I will have to scold her about doing it so openly though.

\- Did you not tell her it was against nature?

\- It isn't. You can do it as well if you know how. And I agree with her it is more practical sometimes. Why does it bother you if she feels better like this? She was always a unique thing. She did not start being weird today.

Christine did not like the fact that Mahtab acted and dressed like a boy anyways, but this was just too much for her already that the child made up so weird habits and wanted to stop her from doing it by telling none of the boys were allowed to use the bathroom that way. Erik snorted at her that she may not indulge in his own bathroom habits and shall only bother about her own business. She wanted to explain that she only wished to spare the child's pure soul, and turn her to be a normal girl finally. She was shocked about the response she got from Mahtab to the announcement when she informed her daughter about her.

\- You just envy us because you are not able to do so Mama.

\- How dare you? – Christine lost her patience and slapped Mahtab real hard. – I have enough of this nonsense! You are not a boy! Enough, understood? Stop being crazy!

\- Christine stop! – Erik arrived just in time to make Christine release the girl from her desperate grip. She was shaking Mahtab's shoulders with such a force it made Mahtab nod unintentionally. – Have you lost your mind?

\- You don't love me! – Mahtab pointed at Christine accusingly, then stormed out of the room.


	57. Chapter 57

Erik hurried after Mahtab in fright when he heard her accusation towards Christine. It rang in his ear painfully as a cry for help. "You don't love me!" He suddenly saw a similar scene in front of his eyes, when a mask was thrown at him, and he started sobbing the same sentence, and he heard Mother's angry response "How could I love such an ugly monster?" He got scared of the girl's desperate thought. He had to do something before history repeats itself!

Christine found Mahtab earlier though, as Erik was searching for her in each room possible, but Mahtab wasn't in the house any more. She sat in the backyard next to Shadow's grave, and looked at the sky with tearful eyes. She felt extremely guilty and sorry about her outrage caused by her daughter's sarcastic remark, and approached her crying.

\- Mahtab… I am sorry. – She whispered as she knelt down next to the teen, who looked at her still with a lot of pain in her eyes.

\- You don't love me. – She repeated, now with a cooler, but bitterer tone than before, and it felt like a stab in the mother's heart.

\- But of course I do love you…. – Christine hugged Mahtab to herself. – I love you.

\- No, you don't love me. – She shook her head sadly. – You love the girl I should have become.

\- No! – Christine gasped.

\- I am ugly and I act like a boy. You want a girl you could pamper and dress like a princess. A girl who obeys and doesn't want to ride a horse in male style. That is why you never let me have a pony.

\- Oh, Mahtab… it is just not right… you are not a boy…

\- I feel like I am, from a very young age, Mama. I feel like I am trapped in the wrong body. I hate when you wish to dress me as a girl, and you wanted me to have long hair. But I am a boy, and it is not just a phase as you think it, and I am not going to grow it out. And as you don't like this fact, I know you don't love me. As, Mama, this craziness is my personality. I am honest with you now, I confessed my feelings. I know you don't approve, but Papa always supported me with it. Don't worry. I am not going to cause trouble and shame to you. If someone asks, I am not your child. So you have no shame because of my face and boyish unacceptable behavior. I am just as strange as Papa, I am his.

\- God… - Christine sobbed and hugged Mahtab's head to her shoulder and stroke her ear. – But my dear, I am proud to be your mother! You are my child, and I am openly and proudly telling anyone about you! I don't care what people say… I am sorry I made you feel this way my darling… I thought it was only because of Papa told you that… you should be a boy…

\- He did not say such a thing. On the contrary. He told me a boy's life is always more difficult and told me I make a decision for myself. He yet listed me all pros and cons of being a boy and a girl both sides when I was seven years old or so. He told me I had time to decide as it is a very important matter, but until I decide, I should just enjoy myself. But I have made up my mind Mama- I wish to be a male.

\- I understand now. – Christine nodded. – So it is, I guess is just the way God had created you, sweetie. And there is nothing wrong with it. – She patted her head reassuringly.

\- So you don't think I am crazy?

\- No, dear. I am sorry for saying such a thing. I got upset… I did not mean it.

\- I am not angry Mama. I know it is hard to accept such a thing. I appreciate you are willing to. I was afraid for some minutes that you are not tolerating me.

\- Oh dear… do as you please, I will always love you. – Christine smiled at her honestly.

Erik got to the backyard, wheezing, finally finding Christine and Mahtab, but was relieved to see Christine kissing Mahtab's forehead with love. He stopped and dried up his sweaty forehead with his handkerchief and slower, a lot slower, he walked to the bench in front of the fountain. He sat down and leaned back, relaxing. Oh, stress wasn't good for him anymore, maybe because he had suffered so much of it in his earlier life. He got so worn out after the smallest stress and in these moments he felt weak and tired. With a deep sigh, he stretched his long legs out and looked at the water to calm himself.

\- Are you feeling ill, Papa? – It was Mahtab, looking at him a bit worriedly.

\- No, no my dear. – Erik smiled. – I am just a bit of tired.

\- A life like yours makes you tired easily. – She stated understandingly.

Erik looked at Mahtab with surprise. He knew she was emotionally mature than her age, but she could always surprise him with being so wise. Christine also was stunned by the maturity with Mahtab explained her feelings to her. She did not expect such a child to be able to word her thoughts like an adult, but she certainly did so. Maybe it was finally time to handle her as a grown up person? Erik always stated he turned out to be a man at the age of 12 when he started to live on his own and support himself from his own work. Christine found it an exaggeration, but she had to admit that a boy who takes care of himself, can be called a man, and sure, Mahtab was more independent and mature than a child in her age.

Even though Mahtab was taking care of Belle for most of the time, Erik took care of her still, and so did Christine, of course. Erik liked to take the child out for walks on the street in a pram, and he was happily whistling or humming to her while they walked on the streets of Paris. Once he was deeply buried in his music, or, to be honest, would be buried if the child would have let him think. She was babbling and crying too much, so Erik eventually got fed up with it and put a pacifier in her mouth to silence her for some time. She happily accepted and started sucking on it, which resulted in her falling asleep not much time after. Erik was walking contentedly in the park, thinking of his new musical ideas, totally getting lost in his thoughts. Some time later he felt his knee started bothering him, so he needed to sit down on a bench for some minutes, stopping the pram next to the bench. He was composing in his mind, and closed his eyes, imagining the new composition being played by a full orchestra. With a relieved sigh, he soon stood up from the bench and walked along the streets contentedly. He needed to get home to write the piece down as soon as possible.

He cheerfully stepped in his home, whistling, and headed to the study, nearly jumping in happiness. He at least found the correct, the One True melody, which he instantly had to write and orchestrate. Oh he loved composing, but the paperwork is so much with it, it shall take long hours to finally finish, but the result will absolutely worth it. It will be his Magnum Opus. Why did he have to get so old to finally write it?

\- Erik! – He heard Christine's voice behind his back, but shamefully he had to admit that in his state of mind he did not care. He pretended he heard nothing and walked to the study. – Erik! – She repeated a bit louder, but as he did not show any reaction still, she creamed from the top of her operatic lungs: - ERIK!

\- Yes, my love? – Erik finally turned around to face his wife. – Screaming damages your vocal chords, my angel. – He added on a scolding tone.

\- Erik, I don't care about my vocal chords! Where is the child? – She jumped in front of him in shock.

\- Child? – Erik scratched his head.

\- Yes, Belle! – Christine yelled.

\- Belle…? Oh… Why, was she with… oh…

Suddenly Erik remembered back about he did not leave the house alone, but with the baby. He had older children for a time, and he got unused of having to take care of a baby in these past years. He could get lost in his thoughts while the kids still followed him, and even took his hand while crossing the roads. He did not always have to pay attention before Belle's birth. Those three were already on their own, independently. But having a small baby is another thing. Belle was sure left in the park.

\- Erik, you LOST her? – Christine gasped.

\- Kind of. – Erik murmured softly. – But don't worry I go to get her.

\- You are such a careless stupid thing! – Christine spat out angrily. – You could just as easily kill them! God, why do I let them around you? My poor children!

\- Christine, stop… - He sighed.

\- You LOST my child, do you get this at all? – She turned red from fury. – You are dangerous! You are the WORST father ever, endangering my children!

\- Wow – wow! – Erik turned back from the door with a sudden rage: - If I am that bad of a father, why do you let me stay at home to take care of them all?

\- Go and get Belle already! – Christine shook her fist at him.

\- As if it weren't you who took out Mahtab to be beaten as a toddler out of sheer stupidity! As if it weren't you who lost her on the station and let her climb on a fucking train! – Erik clearly lost his patience.

\- Don't dare to use this tone with me!

\- All right, I am going to talk to you in fucking F major from now on! – He groaned then walked out of the house, slamming the door behind himself.

He felt Christine was unjustly accusing him. Yes, he left Belle in the park, and made a mistake. It was a bad and a careless thing to do, for sure, but shall she be the one accusing him, when he, despite of his temper and past, never hurt any of his children on purpose? He could count the occasions in one hand for all three of the children being spanked, and it was always well – deserved. And he never let them get into dangerous situations before. Yet Christine did it more times already! And he never called her a terrible mother for it!

Arriving back to the park, he was rather tired. He wasn't used to so much walking any more. He had to admit he turned rather comfortable old man. Back in the Opera he walked up and down thousands of stairs, and rowed a boat across the lake and he did not get tired. Now though he was too much used to going by car and so long walks made him worn out. Getting nearer to the bench he left the pram at, he could hear people talking, and soon he noticed a smaller group.

God… there was a problem.

He noticed the pram in the middle of the crowd, made up from maybe 15-20 people, who were whining about the poor abandoned baby.

\- What kind of a person leaves this cute little baby alone…? – An older lady squeaked on a tone that would make canaries move to the New Hebrides, even if they did not know where the Old ones were.

\- Poor, poor little dear. – A younger woman leaned above Belle to see if she was all right.

\- This is unbelievable. – A taller man snorted. – Someone just leaves the poor child in the middle of the park, as if she was a dog!

\- I would never ever leave my dog here alone! – The old mummy stated as if she was actually asked. She was holding a lap dog under her arm and quickly kissed it to prove her words as if it was needed.

\- Should we call the police? – A shorter man with a pointy mustache jumped around nervously. He was the fidgety know-it- all type of man, who did not have a single word at home, that is why he wanted to act in public. Erik knew this type well.

\- Hubert, shut your face! – A powerful alto voice rang through the crowd, produced by a largely overweight woman, who rolled nest to the fidgety small nerve wreck. Great, here is the wife as well. – But exactly, we shall call the police! – She added.

Erik approached the people with a deep sigh. Oh, just what he wanted: to confront so many people.

\- Pardon. – He stepped closer to the pram and addressed the two women blocking his way. – Do make way, please.

He tried to be the politest possible, while they stared at him.

\- Is this your child? – The old woman screamed when he touched the pram's handle to push it.

\- Yes, Madame. – He nodded.

\- I am yet a maiden! – She spat out an offended gasp.

\- Oh, pardon. – Erik sighed.

"I couldn't know, next time write it on your forehead." He thought while trying to turn.

\- Are you really her father? – The know- it all jumped in front of the pram. – Or do you just try to get her?

\- You may chose if I leave next to or through you, Monsieur. – Erik threw his voice in the man's left ear, who gasped and jumped out of the way.

\- Unbelievable… ungrateful… he did not even say thank you… what a man… - The nobleman stuttered as Erik was getting further from them.

\- Monster! You don't deserve kids! – The old maiden who did not find a fool to marry her sent this outrage after Erik.

\- Maybe he is her grandfather. – The young woman said. – And maybe he is a pantaloons, so he just forgot her here.

They burst out in a nasty laughter after this, laughing at him for much time. He could hear them even at the edge of the park. Just what he wished: being called a demented monster. What he really was.

\- Are you mad at me too? – Erik asked Belle with a sad sigh.

The baby just giggled at him and seemed to be happy to be with him again.

\- At least you are not then. Good. – He stroke her face with a depressed look in his eyes.

He wasn't yet called a monster when he wore his good – looking human mask. People did not call him ugly or unworthy of anything when he shielded himself with that rubber fake face that made him look like anyone else. He could just be a John Doe who wasn't spotted easily in a crowd like before. He was getting used to being a normal human, and this confrontation just shattered his illusion he was building in the last 17 years since he was married to Christine and tried to lead a normal life. He was still a monster if he deserved that name. A monster buried down under a masterfully crafted disguise.

As he arrived home, and just rolled the pram to Christine to do whatever she wanted with the child, they did not say a single word to each other. Christine was still angry with Erik, and Erik was extremely hurt by her and the crowd's words, so he did not wish to start another fight. He just dragged himself in his study, but the magical music already disappeared from his head.

He closed the study's door with a deep sigh, when he noticed he wasn't alone in there.

Noel sat in his armchair that faced the desk. He recognized the boy's arm as he reached out to the half full wine bottle on his desk. What the Hell…? He wanted to just pay attention to what was happening for a time, so he did not say a word. Noel grabbed the glass as well and poured a glassful of Tokai for himself.

What a little brat! Erik really started to lose his mind with fury and the first thought of his was that he grabs the boy and spanks him the hardest he ever did for that. Does he drink for a long time, the little devil? He is only 8 years old, for God's sake! What comes next? Cigar? Morphine? He wanted to slap him so hard for that so the wall should give the other. But… he suddenly had a better idea.

\- What are you up to, son? – He approached Noel casually. He tried his best to control his temper.

\- Just doing manly things. – Noel pulled himself out, like a nobleman.

\- As?

\- Drinking wine.

\- Oh, really? Aren't you too young for that, son?

\- No. I am a grown up man. – He smiled proudly.

\- Hm. – Erik scratched his head. – If it is so, why do you drink wine? That is not for grown up men.

\- Why, you drink that too. – Noel took a sip of it, and frowned a bit, but swallowed anyway.

\- Do you drink wine for long time?

\- No. – He shook his blonde well-groomed small head. - It's my first time.

\- Oh, really? – He asked. – Well, then we shall celebrate you turning to be a man with something stronger.

\- Stronger? – Noel's eyes lit up with a sudden interest.

\- Yes. Real man drink vodka. – Erik stated. – If you can drink it, you are a man. If not… then you are just a boy and I shall never ever see you around my things, right?

\- Right. – He nodded.

Erik opened the secret closet in his cabinet to get the bottle of vodka he stored there. He rarely drank, but sometimes it felt good to drink something stronger than wine. He poured a shot for both Noel and himself.

\- Here you go. Cheers. – He clinked glasses with Noel, then drank his portion.

\- Cheers. – Noel grinned and imitated his father, drinking the shot like his father, but he had to realize it was burning his throat. It was horrible. He nearly spat it out, but his stubbornness was stronger, so he swallowed it with a bit of struggle.

\- What's the matter? – Erik inquired casually, while pouring another glass of vodka for himself.

\- Nothing. – Noel mumbled. He felt like his tongue wasn't capable of feeling anything anymore.

\- Then do you wish to have another round? – Erik asked.

\- N… n… yes. – He nodded.

\- Well, then here you go. – Erik poured another for Noel too. – Drink to the lees. Cheers.

This second shot was really hard to drink. Harder than the first one. It burned his mouth, his throat, even his nose. He was breathing heavily.

\- Another one? – Erik offered.

\- No… no… - Noel shook his head. He really did not want another.

\- Sure…? – Erik asked.

\- Sure. – Noel sighed. – Do you have something that … reduces this burning sensation?

\- Oh, you are not used to vodka, my silly head. – Erik smiled evilly. – I suggest you not to drink water now, it will hurt.

\- Then what…? Maybe cigar… Papa?

Cigar… here we are, it is stated. Well, you shall have another lesson my dear.

\- Cigar?

\- Yes… you have it… after alcohol… you said it feels good.

\- It does, sure. – Erik opened his cigar box to prepare one for Noel, then lit it and gave it to him. – Well, here you go. Be a true man.

Noel was proud for a time that his father allowed him to have the forbidden things. But… after a time they did not feel that good as he expected them to. The vodka was absolutely horrible, and the cigar smoke was making his eyes fill up with tears. He coughed for some moments, the already drank vodka and smoke were irritating his throat. His head spun and he slowly felt his stomach turn. With his last strength he rushed to the bathroom to get rid of everything.

\- Well, son. – Erik shook his bony index finger threateningly at the pale boy emerging from the bathroom, wiping his mouth with disgust. – If I catch you meddling with my wine or cigar one more time before your 21st Birthday, I make you drink a whole bottle of vodka and smoke the entire box of cigars at once! You will bathe in your own vomit and learn what not to touch. Understood?

\- Yes, Papa. – The boy whispered, feeling rather sick still.

\- Go to your room and think. – Erik groaned. – No dinner for you today.

Well, to be honest the child did not even wish to have dinner with his stomach…

\- What was that…? – Christine asked with a shock, seeing the scene.

\- Not your business. – Erik waved in the air. – Manly issues.

\- You are terrorizing my boy! – She grabbed his arm as he wanted to leave.

\- Better if he hates vodka than if he adores it.

\- Is that a normal way of punishment to you? – Christine faced him and looked deeply in his eyes.

\- Why? Should Erik have rather spanked him by a belt? – Erik hissed.

\- No! But if you talk to him about it…

\- He will laugh in my face. – Erik finished the sentence. – Like this, he at least learned a lesson.

\- You are a monster!

\- I know, I am a terrible father, and I should not have ever been born! – He pushed Christine's hands off of his shoulder. – I have heard it, I have enough of this aria for today.

\- You are unable to admit you have made a mistake!

\- Yes I have! – Erik yelled. – I have made a huge mistake by fathering kids! I told you Erik won't be a good father! I told you!

\- Erik, if you really think like this…

\- I do! I never wanted any of them! Never!

\- You don't have to live with us if we are such a burden to you! – She retorted. – But I stay with my children!

\- All right! – Erik screamed in fury. – I am leaving and… and… and…

\- Erik, don't dare to! – She gasped. – Would you really leave us?

\- You don't want me around. – Erik stated bitterly. – I did not make this choice. – He wheezed when he grabbed his coat and put it on.

He ran out of the door and slammed it behind himself. Christine was staring at the door and realized how huge mistake she just made. The whole day was a mess and she told him things she should have never said. She opened the door and cried out desperately:

\- Erik… Erik come back… Erik please…! Erik!


	58. Chapter 58

Christine heard the engine of Erik's car being ignited. She desperately ran to the direction where she heard the car, but it was too fast for her. It could be seen for some moments, but it disappeared too fast from her view, and no matter how quickly she ran, she lost it. She wheezed and shook with fear and exhaustion after a long chase. Erik drove way too fast compared to his usual tempo. It meant nothing good. He was usually a careful driver, surprisingly. He never drove too fast and paid attention not to be in an accident. Now though, being all worked up, he did not give a damn about speed.

Christine stood on the road, helplessly stretching out her arms towards the empty spot in front of her. She did not give up though. She ran back home where the children were occupying themselves, knowing nothing of the happenings. Thankfully they did not notice the scene as Mahtab and Flo were playing music and Noel was just lying on his bed with his indigestion caused by the vodka and cigar. She tried to compose herself enough to ask Mahtab to take care of Belle while she was away.

\- Why, where is Papa?

\- He had to go somewhere and I have to go to rehearsal. – She lied.

\- I thought you don't perform this week. – Mahtab tilted her head to the side.

\- I am an understudy, dear, my co- worker got sick.

\- How do you know? – Mahtab inquired.

\- The Opera informed me. – She looked at her with annoyance. She did not like Mahtab's questioning, she acted like her father when he was being jealous.

\- We did not have mail today. I did not carry in anything. – The teen went on.

\- Oh, Mahtab, just do what you were asked, will you?

\- Yes, Mama. – She nodded, but sent a suspicious glance towards Christine.

Something wasn't all right and she knew it from her mother's reactions and state of mind. She was nervous. Papa did not have to go anywhere, really since he stopped working, and everyone knew it. Mahtab did not like it when her mother thought she was stupid just because she was young. She wasn't stupid indeed, and could read behind the words and acts. Something had happened. She was determined to find it out, but she had to look after Bell, who was indeed too small to be left alone, so the girl just went to see the baby. Her parents hopefully will work things out.

Erik suddenly felt something strange as he drove. He could not say he was all right even when he climbed in, as he felt dizzy and heard strange sounds in his ear, but he guessed it was only because of the extreme stress he was just going through. But he now felt even stranger things. His fingers on his left hand started to move involuntarily. They opened and closed following some strange rhythmical pattern. He could not control it and it annoyed him to no end. Moreover, some strange bad feeling took him over. He felt as he was getting distant from his own body. What the Hell is happening? Nervously, collecting his remaining strength and composing himself, he drove off of the road and stopped, waiting for this strange feeling to stop. This act of his was his luck, as the sensation did not stop. It got worse. He made some involuntary chewing movements and swallowed some repeatedly. He could not control any of his actions any more. He was afraid he might die instantly and closed his eyes, trying to take some deep breaths and remembered Christine's kind face in front of him. He wished to die with her memory at least. Christine…

Poor Christine was running towards the stopped car. She was already worn out, but extremely alarmed as she saw Erik stopped. Why did he do it? He wasn't that far away from home yet, and he sure did not want her to follow him. Or did he change his mind…? He stopped so she can approach him? Or was he ill? She arrived next to the car, but saw nothing. Erik was missing. Absolutely not in the car, did not sit on the seat. Why did he leave and where…? Did he just… have to relieve himself suddenly or something like that? Where was he?

\- Erik! – She called out nervously.

No answer.

\- Erik, please talk to me… don't play this trick… Erik…?

Suddenly she heard something.

A soft moan came from further among the bushes near the road. She hurried in that direction where she finally noticed Erik. He did not seem to be well. He was on the ground, kicking and shaking rapidly, sometimes giving out wheezing and moaning noises. His mask slipped off and was further from him, as if he arrived to the ground by falling out of the car and rolled down there. His uncovered face was frightening because his face turned bluish white instead of yellow as usual, his mouth bled, and he seemed to be unconscious. His eyes were open, but he did not look at Christine, his mind was off. He looked somewhere to the distance above Christine's shoulder as she kneld down next to him. She cautiously leaned closer, trying to push him down so the muscle spasms might reduce, but he was extremely hard to hold. His head was moving as well and he repeatedly hit his head to the ground.

\- Erik, stop… can you hear me…? – She called out.

As he did not stop it, and his mouth was already bleeding, Christine tried to push his head down as well and what to put in his mouth to keep it open when she heard a crack. Alarmed, she looked down. Erik's wrist wasn't in its natural position any more as she was trying too hard to force it down. Erik's spasms finally reduced, then he slowly stopped moving, his eyes closed, and he started snoring as if he was asleep. What? Christine was looking at him in horror. Why did he fall asleep suddenly? What was this? Is he ill? Will he die…? What should she do to him?

She was scared and clueless. She did not know how to drive the car, Erik was seemingly in a deep sleep, and otherwise ill, so she did not dare to leave him there alone until she calls for help, but even if she could wake him up somehow, he sure wasn't in a good enough condition to drive, especially that something had happened to his wrist. She can't even run back to the house, because they were about halfway between the house and downtown. Either way she can't win. She was uncomfortably stroking Erik's hair and started crying. Now will he die here because she is unable to help him? How can she be so useless? As Erik was drooling in his sleep, she took a handkerchief and started wiping his mouth from blood and saliva. She softly started singing for him, knowing literally nothing better.

She stroke his hair and softly hummed to him, some old Swedish songs she learned from her father. At least, if Erik hears her, he might feel better.

Some minutes later, which seemed like decades, Erik's golden eyes finally opened again. He was looking at her as if he did not even recognize her for some moments, then he sighed deeply and finally he softly spoke.

\- What… what has… happened?

\- Erik! – She sobbed with relief.

\- Chris… tine? – He blinked some, then moaned in pain.

\- What's wrong dear? – Christine rubbed Erik's shoulder sympathetically.

\- Erik's… head… his … wrist… his… everything…

\- What is wrong with them, hm?

\- Huuurts. – He whined.

\- Don't worry, dear. – She hurried to calm him down. – We are going to the doctors. Can you get up?

\- Up? - He repeated as if he wasn't sure where he was.

\- Yes, dear, you are on the ground. Get up please.

\- I… try. – He staggered to his feet slowly, but needed Christine's help.

He felt a strange flavor in his mouth, and he was utterly disoriented. He did not know where he was and what had happened. Why did he get here? Why was he feeling so weak and sleepy…?

\- You aren't able to drive. Please lean against me, we go home. – She rubbed his back.

\- Yes. – He nodded exhaustedly. He wasn't really able to function normally. He wanted only one thing: get to bed as soon as possible.

Thankfully he forgot everything that happened before his strange sickness. He just allowed her to help him home and in bed.

\- I am going to fetch the doctor for you dear… are you sure you are well enough to stay alone for a few minutes?

\- Erik wants… to rest…

\- All right dear. – She smiled at him and worriedly ran out of the room to go downtown for the doctor.

Erik slowly started to regain his sanity and feel better. He rested a bit and slipped into a dreamless sleep, and when he opened his eyes again, he felt much better. Only his wrist bothered him. He still had no clue about what happened. He just found it a better idea not to jump up from bed as something serious might have happened to him. He decided to rest and take it easy for the rest of the day.

Finally Christine arrived back with the doctor, who examined Erik and tried his best to know more about what had happened. Erik briefly told him how it started as he started to remember, and Christine also told him what she saw and did. Bonsanté scratched his head, paused a bit, then said:

\- The things both of you told me indicates Erik had a seizure.

\- A what? – Christine asked back nervously. The word wasn't familiar to her. She had seen many ill and old people, Mama and later Papa Daaé, Mama Valerius, and Prof. Valerius, but none of them had a similar illness and she never heard this word.

\- Epilepsy? – Erik sighed. – Just what I needed on top of everything.

Erik had considerable amount of medical knowledge, so he knew what the doctor was referring to. He read books and articles about it, and knew what to expect if the diagnose was right. Maybe it won't be the more serious case, and will be able to go on with his life as he did before… hopefully…?

\- It is not sure yet that it is epilepsy. – Bonsanté replied. – Maybe it was a non-epileptic seizure which may occur once or twice in life. Did you have similar seizures in your childhood?

\- I don't remember. – He admitted.

\- Well, if it happens more than twice, then maybe we can be closer to the solution, but we should actually just try to avoid the seizures. Don't worry, they are not too dangerous if they happen in a safe environment, they get better on their own. Christine, if Erik has another one, just make sure he won't fall, and put something soft under his head. It may be a towel, a pillow or a jacket. Don't restrain him as you did now – you successfully broke his wrist trying to help him.

\- Oh Erik, I am sorry… - She whispered.

\- No worries, Christine, it was not your fault. – Erik calmed her.

\- You could not know you don't do it right. – The doctor added. – It can be cured.

\- It is not my first broken bone. – Erik laughed out a bit bitterly while the doctor took care of his wrist. – Erik is used to them.

\- What should we do to avoid seizures, doctor? – Christine inquired nervously.

\- Well, we know little about this illness yet, but there are some things that can trigger a seizure. These things are stress, lack of sleep, sudden hard light and alcohol mostly.

\- Am I not allowed to drink? – Erik sighed.

\- If it causes seizures than no, unless you wish to have one. You have to find it out if you get sick after drinking. If you do, don't drink. I suggest you to rest a lot in these days. No sudden outrages, no alcohol, and regular eating and sleeping. Drink a lot, as dehydration makes your system weaker. If you have another seizure, let me know.

\- Will do. – Erik nodded. – May I get up now?

\- Depends. Do you want to work? – The doctor asked.

\- No. Just nature calls to me. – He replied.

\- Oh then absolutely yes. You don't need to stay in bed, only if you feel weak.

As Erik left to go to the bathroom, the doctor looked around and softly said:

\- Christine, now that we are alone, I can tell you that Erik will need more help from now. And less stress. These seizures are tiring you see, and if he gets them regularly, he physically won't be able to work in the house with the children as he did before.

\- How often are these seizures…? It was frightening.

\- It looks more serious than it is. – Bonsanté nodded. – But he needs sleep after each of them and he gets weak and disoriented, sometimes alarmed. I can't tell you how frequent these may happen. Some patients might have more of them daily, but if Erik is lucky enough he might just have one or two in a year. This is a very wide spectrum. Everything is possible in between. – He nodded and scratched his head. – Now, he will need your help more than he did before. I just wanted to inform you as I know he would rather burn in Hell than ask for help. You might reconsider some things in your life.

The door opened and Erik returned, looking at the doctor and Christine curiously.

\- Well, are you finished with talking about me behind my back?

\- We are. – The doctor replied smiling at Erik's usual sarcasm.

\- Then would you two give me some privacy as I would like to change into a clean outfit? Oh, God I have to change the sheets too. – He murmured as he saw the dirt from his clothes made the bed messy.

\- Erik, I will do it. – Christine offered. – Please just change your clothes. I will wait outside. – She added.

\- If you are sure. – Erik shrugged.

The doctor nodded as they walked out of the room.

\- Just remember, help him in as many things as you can, and don't let him overstrain himself.

The doctor left, and Christine walked to the children's room which was in a total chaos just as usual. Erik had to tidy it for the boys, as Mahtab always did her part. Her part of the room was in perfect condition, but the boys made a huge mess. Toys and clothes all over the floor, and some sheets of paper with sheet music and drawings. Erik tried to discipline them for it and order them to tidy up, but Christine always protected them from him. They are just children, let them play and enjoy life! But now she had to admit the children needed to learn how to clean up after themselves. They are 8 and 10 years old, big enough to help. They were babied and spoiled too much by her. Time to be a bit stricter. Erik never wanted bad to them, he just always wanted to make boundaries and teach them of their responsibilities. He wasn't too strict.

\- Mahtab dear, what are you doing? – She asked smiling when she noticed the oldest child with the youngest one on Mahtab's bed.

\- Just holding Belle.

\- That is kind of you, but you don't have to hold her constantly.

\- She is cute, I love to hold her.

Christine stroke the girl1s hair and smiled at her lovingly.

\- Is Papa ill? – Mahtab asked anxiously.

\- He is better now. He is not ill, just he got sick. He needs to rest some.

\- That is good to hear. – She sighed in relief, then kissed the baby. – Do you hear, Papa is better. We shall not worry.

\- Where are your brothers? – Christine smiled through her tears of being touched by Mahtab's love for her little sister.

\- They must be here somewhere. – She shrugged. – They don't want to help me clean up.

\- We are going to change this. – Christine smiled, then leaned out of the door. -Flo! Noel! – She called out.

\- Yes Mama? – The boys ran to her, waiting for chocolate bonbons or hugs and kisses as Mama would mostly call them for that reason. This, however wasn't the case right now.

\- Have you seen your room lately? – She asked, placing her hands on her hip.

\- Yes… - Noel replied, being clueless about what this might mean.

\- And how does it look to you? – Christine went on.

\- Not good. – Flo admitted. – Messy.

\- It is. – Christine nodded. – And do you see the other parts of the house in such a mess?

\- No. – They shook their heads.

\- And why don't you clean your room? – Christine asked, displeased.

\- Because Papa will do eventually. – Noel replied. – There is no need to.

\- Well, from now, young men, - Christine's tone turned to be threatening and strict at this point, - you will have to tidy your room by yourselves as Papa isn't your servant, and neither is any other part of the family! Now you go and clean it. I will come back in an hour and if it isn't pristine clean by then, I am going to punish you both!

\- But Mama, my stomach still hurts… - Noel whined, while Flo obediently walked in to collect his sheet music from the ground.

\- Working makes you feel better. – Christine pointed at the open door, and sent a strict glance at Noel. – Or you might just argue with me. Your choice. But if you do, I will punish you stricter than Papa ever did.

This last sentence worried Noel a lot. Mama never talked to him in this manner before! He hurried inside to collect his toys and put them in the chest before Mama punishes him too – Papa's punishment was certainly enough for today! Noel and Flo were tidying the room hardworking, putting away each of the small toys and papers while Mahtab was cradling Belle in her arms, sitting on her bed.

Erik was speechless when he saw the scene taking place between the boys and Christine. As his wife walked into the bedroom to change the sheets, Erik approached her from behind and called out. He did not really want to have another fight, but he needed to clear things up.

\- Christine, dear…

\- Yes? Do you wish to lay down? – She looked at him worriedly.

\- No. We need to talk. – He said with surprise.

\- Oh. All right, Erik, just let me change the sheets…

\- They can wait. – He hugged her shoulder and kissed her forehead gently. – Please, we need to talk.

They walked into the drawing room and Christine was eyeing Erik with a mixture of worry and love. He took a seat in his favorite chair, facing his wife and smiled at her.

\- Did Erik hear it right that you made the boys clean their room?

\- Yes. – She nodded.

\- Did he hear it right that you also threatened them with punishment shall they disobey?

\- Yes, dear. – Christine nodded.

\- Thank you. – Erik caught her hand and kissed it numerous times.

\- Oh… - She laughed out, finally realizing Erik wasn't angry with her.

\- Erik thanks Christine for not being mad at him, and seeing the children need to be punished sometimes.

\- Erik, I realized I made a mistake. I mean I spoiled the children too much, because I thought they will love me more if I don't punish them a lot. I was wrong. Noel… deserved what he got. – She admitted.

\- Oh Christine it is so good you understand… you know, I am sorry for forgetting Belle. I don't know why it happened… but people in the park said Erik doesn't deserve kids… and you called him a terrible father.

\- I wasn't right. – Christine hugged Erik's neck. – You are a good father. A very good father.

\- I try my best. – Erik patted Christine's back. – You know, my dear Christine, Erik tries his best to be a good father as he had a terrible mother. He swore numerous times when he grew up, that if ever he shall have children, he will never treat them as Mother treated him. He never bet them by belt or wooden spoon, he never humiliated them on purpose, they hardly even received a slap or spanking, and if they did it was well deserved. But they NEED to learn their responsibilities, their duty and their boundaries. Yes, they need to be spoiled and loved – but not always.

\- I agree, Erik dear. I see my fault earlier.

\- So may Erik hope that Christine won't argue with him about disciplining the children anymore?

\- Yes, dear. And I will discipline them just as you do.

\- Erik is relieved to hear this. You know, it was hard to go against the wind always. You nearly always questioned me about this, giving me bad feelings, making me insecure. I was afraid I will have no power in their eyes because if I forbade something, you instantly allowed it. And it is tiring, Christine. Very much tiring. This is why I just did not tell them any more to clean up, for example. They just went to you, whined some and you let them play again just as Erik said nothing. It made me frustrated and tired and I just decided to leave them alone and let you three be happy. At least Mahtab obeys me.

\- Why did you never tell me this?

\- I did not think you would agree. – He said softly.

\- I do now. And I am sorry for the inconveniences I had caused.

\- It is all right. – Erik smiled warmly. – I never was angry with you.

\- I wish to talk to you as well. – She continued.

\- Really? – He tilted his head to the side in surprise. – Well, what do you wish to tell me?

\- I am thinking of staying at home with you. – Christine started.

\- Well, you do stay at home as you don't perform this week. – Erik shrugged.

\- Not even any other week. I am staying home with you all.

\- What? – Erik gasped. – You wish to leave the Opera?

\- Yes. – She nodded with determination.

\- Christine you are at the top of your career! You are the diva, everyone loves you and you are the most talented singer ever! Would you just throw your success away? What did that leech tell you, eh? Did he tell you to stay at home with Erik…?

\- He did not. Erik, please listen, will you? Well, your illness is just a part of the reasons I wish to stay at home.

\- What do you mean?

\- Firstly, I am a mother and I paid too much attention to the stage. It was always poor you who had to stay home with them. I hardly see them in the season. I wish to spend more time with them.

\- Partly true. – Erik admitted.

\- I had spent many times in my career, Erik. Many colleagues of mine go home to be a housewife after they have the first child.

\- But you are not just a random singer!

\- I know. But Paris had enough time to see me on stage and cheer for me.

\- Such a talent should not be hid in this house.

\- Erik… you had helped me to achieve my dreams as a singer and I am thankful for that. But there is no more to achieve in that field. I have sang all the difficult roles. I have sang Gounod, Wagner, Offenbach, Mozart… but now I wish to be a mother when I grew old.

\- Grew old? Christine, don't make me laugh! You are young! Erik is old!

\- Erik, I am already 38 years old. Two years and I turn 40.

\- And? That is still young.

\- I remember you told me once you find it disgusting that singers 50 and up do sing the role of a 16 year old girl.

\- That is laughable indeed, but you have yet 12 years until you turn 50. You are young, and look younger than your age. You are not an overweight wrinkled canary like most of them.

\- But I think I shall stop at the top. Who knows what happens to my voice…? I mean… there are many singers who sing at the old age as well and don't notice when they have no voice any longer.

\- Erik will inform you when you start to lose it. If it ever happens.

\- Erik, I wish to stay here with you.

\- Let me guess: you are afraid you will find Erik dead one day when you arrive home from the Opera in the company of his mourning children.

\- Partly. But all I said before is true as well and are parts of my decision. Erik I did not come up with the idea today.

\- No?

\- No. I had been thinking about it for a few months, but this seizure was the final thing which secured me in this decision. Erik, I am planning to play this season through, so the management has time to search for a replacement. But Christine Spöke isn't performing in the season of 1899/1900.

\- If it is so, Erik accepts your decision. Whatever makes you happy.

\- Thank you dear. And I promise things are going to change from now, even while I am still performing. You are not alone.

Erik smiled at his wife, stroke her golden locks and kissed her lovingly on the cheek. Who would think someone can grow up during an afternoon?


	59. Chapter 59

After Erik's first seizure things had changed a lot in the family. Erik was finally not the only one taking care of the house. Mahtab was helping him before a lot, but the house and the garden together were still too big, and Erik did not consider Mahtab as a small servant, rather his aid many times, so he still had a lot to do. But now, as the doctor informed them about his need to rest more, and Christine finally realized that those 28 years difference to Erik's advance between them started to have a sign, she saw that it was too much for him alone. He was an old man, and men in his age needed a lot more rest than before. She had to realize Papa Daaé was younger than Erik when he passed away, so he needed to be spared of emotional and physical exhaust the most possible, especially with his new illness. Yet Erik liked to be active, his body wasn't capable of that much anymore. He did not like to admit this, but appreciated that he had less things to do, and liked to rest in his chair.

Sadly, Erik did not only have that one seizure. Yet they were not too serious anymore, and the "grand mal" occurred just a few times, he had some lapses which lasted for only a few seconds of blankly staring into space, or shaking his hands rhythmically. The children were explained what to and what not to do to Erik if it happens, and they reacted well to this. Mahtab once assisted her father during a grand mal, and put a pillow under his head while he lay on the floor in the salon. She was a bit scared, but tried her best to overcome it, and later she guided Papa to bed with the calm and secure knowledge of a doctor. Erik knew he could trust his oldest at any time after it had happened so he wasn't scared about seizures any more.

The housework was, rather equally sorted between the family members, so everyone had their job. Even Flo and Noel had to help at home, cleaning their room, keeping it tidy and packing away their clothes from the laundry, so they weren't the spoiled little boys anymore. They learned that they had responsibilities as well, and everyone had to help each other.

Doing the dishes was the work that had to be scheduled, as there were smaller or bigger quarrels about it between the kids as no one really liked to do that chore, not even Mahtab, who tended to do someone else's job anytime without a second thought – but not dishes. Christine made a timetable for each day of the week, telling which of them will do the dishes, and it was equally shared, so no more reason for disagreements. Noel seemingly hated the chores, but deep in his heart he liked to help his parents, yet he would never admit it out loud. He made an attempt though, to avoid doing the dishes, using his smart brain (and bad manners). He "accidentally" broke some plates, claiming he wasn't good enough in working with breakable objects, but Christine knew well that it was on purpose, so Noel did not receive any sweets for a week, as Christine announced the plates will be replaced by that money she would spend on his sweets, so Noel did not have the urge to do it again. Christine took part in everything as well, as she had to admit she chose the easier way earlier, just to let Erik do everything, and she loved being spoiled. Time to be a normal and effective housewife instead of the Queen. She did the laundry, sew buttons back up on jackets, did the ironing and took care of the children. Erik was cooking still, and he loved to garden, and tell the bedtime story to the children. These were the things he mostly did and liked, as he did not let anyone else to meddle with his roses, and Christine was still a horrible cook. But in other housework she got noticeably better. Before she ironed actually more wrinkles in Erik's shirt than how he removed it, so he rather did it for himself, but practicing made her much better. She was now able to iron even the pants perfectly.

Mahtab loved Belle and she took care of her the most with Christine, yet Mahtab liked to imagine Belle was actually her baby. She loved to walk her in the garden, firstly in her pram, but as she grew, she took her out to crawl, and then, walk around with her help. The small girl developed normally and smiled a lot, which made Mahtab even happier. Teaching the baby to walk did not take that much time and Belle soon could walk insecurely, yet constantly by her big sister's side. She reminded Erik of the relationship between Mahtab and him, and he was waiting for the day when Belle will address Mahtab "Papa". It did not happen though, as Belle, when she started using real words instead of baby language, she called Erik "Pa", Christine "Ma", Mahtab "Mada", Flo "Fofo" and Noel as "Nene". If someone asked her what her name was, she nodded and said "Baby". She did not have too much of a vocabulary yet, but she could communicate her will easily. She adored to dance to the sound of music, yet she was rather falling on her rear many times, as her sense of balance wasn't too good yet, but she was still jumping around without getting sad or upset about failure.

Mahtab was so patient towards the small girl as a real adult, Erik had to admit that sometimes even more so. She did not get upset if she had to explain simple things over and over and tell a thing 100 times to Belle, even if the baby did not yet understand it.

Christine was happy to find out that Belle was a totally girly girl, unlike her oldest child. She, from even a very young age, loved to be dressed in nice dresses and she loved jewelry. She also loved to play with Christine's make up accessories, and let Mama put some lipstick on her. She also loved to see herself in the mirror. As a toddler, she took up a habit to show herself in dresses by turning around, and showing even the small shoes she got, and was bragging on baby language until the person who was watching her started clapping in delight.

\- What a vain little princess are you, my dear. – Erik laughed while clapping.

Christine bought newer and more- more beautiful dresses for her, enjoying that she had a daughter, finally. Mahtab was never interested in such things, not even while she was still wearing dresses as a toddler. She never wanted to play with jewelry or wear one, save for the pocket watch and cravat pin she received from Erik. One day, not much before Christmas in 1899, Christine arrived home with the young child from the city. Erik did not know what they did there, but he soon found out Belle had a pair of golden earrings.

\- Oh ho, I see now why you took her. – He smiled. - Aww, look how cute you are, little one… soon you are going to be a maiden every man will fight for.

Christine, however, found some strange things about Belle within time. As she grew and her face turned more mature instead of just a baby face, she noticed some major differences upon looking at her. As she got one and a half a year old, she developed facial features that resembled literally no one in the family. Her eyes were green, yet none of the other children had any color besides blue or dark brown, and her hair was much lighter than Erik's or Florian's, but much darker than Mahtab's, Noel's, or hers. It was between light brown and red in some shades and looked rather red when the sun shone at it directly. With the green eyes it was odd, and so much different from other parts of the family. Christine could not even think of a relative who had these features. She sometimes wondered how come that she looks so different than the other children, and tried to remember back to the day of her birth sometimes.

Erik was acting so strange, looking back… so nervous, so insecure.

And those sentences still haunted her sometimes, ringing in her ear as she was thinking about Belle's birthday. At first, it was the doctor:

" _It is_ _ **a boy**_ _, Christine… please stay with me…_ "

And then Erik:

" _We are going to raise_ _ **him**_ _on gruel._ "

How did the boy become a girl? Why does she look like no one else in the nearer or further family?

Is it actually _possible_ for a dark brown haired man and a blonde woman to have a red haired child…?

She was a bit of suspicious about there might be something Erik did not tell. Some secret. But what? Yet, she felt ashamed of her thoughts, and tried to find a logical reason behind Belle's unique looks. Maybe she does not remember clearly? Maybe the girl inherited some older features in the family, and carried them from a further generation? She did not know anything about Erik's family for example. Might be Erik's relatives had this combination of hair and eye color and that shaped nose at some point…?

Still, a strange thing…

Mahtab was already 14 years old, and just finished another growing phase. She was now extremely tall, compared to being just a young girl, she had already manly height. She reached up to Erik's chin, and was thin as a skeleton still. Her body frame did not show at all that she was a female. She was now taller than Christine. She mastered a technique from her father to make her voice sound deeper than it was, so she mostly sounded like a teen boy, unless she wasn't paying attention and jumped back in mezzosoprano range, especially if she was emotionally worked up. She loved to play with the tone of her voice and in some months, she had a range similar to Erik's – from a deeper baritone to high soprano in falsetto. She was still singing very nicely, and did so with pleasure.

Florian and Noel were close friends, yet Noel often considered his older brother to be a coward namby-pamby. Flo was just a meek, dreamy, artistic and silent boy, short and chubbier built, from the two of them, he looked younger than Noel, who was already taller than Flo, and much -much braver. Noel grew a lot as well in the past year, just like Mahtab. He sure also inherited Erik's height. Flo rather acted and looked like Christine, save for the hair and eye color. Christine told he still reminded her of her Papa a lot. They liked to sing together, or Flo accompanied her by the violin and it always touched Christine's heart. She recognized Papa Daaé's emotional playing, combined with Erik's technique.

Flo, as a 12 year- old boy, was starting to be even more interested in girls than before, especially Sophie de Chagny. She was a beautiful young girl, unlike Mahtab, who was a boy, instead of being a girl. But Sophie, with her porcelain doll face, her graceful movements even despite being blind, and those well- formed white hands of hers… She always reminded him of ballet dancers or a queen. He was so much in love with her. He wanted to marry her when he gets old enough. He caught himself daydreaming about her a lot, while he was supposed to do his homework, and he wasn't ashamed of the fact. He wondered how does it feel to kiss a girl… but he still had to wait as it wasn't polite for a man in his age just randomly walk to a girl and kiss her. But he has to learn how to court.

\- Papa… - He walked to Erik nervously at an evening, cracking his fingers.

\- Yes, Flo? – He turned to the pre-teen, with a hint of worry. Flo wasn't so nervous usually.

\- Papa, let's talk like… a man to a man. – He cleared his throat.

This sentence sounded rather ridiculous from a boy, who still sounded like a child, as he did not yet hit puberty. Erik nodded and led him to the study. They sat down at the desk and Erik pointed at Flo, informing him he may now start to speak. He found it strange how his children felt and acted like grown – up people from a young age. What this boy wants, really?

\- How do you court a woman? I mean… what do you do to her so she knows you want to marry her?

\- Florian, you are too young for this. Marriage is only for grown up men.

\- I know, but… I thought… I will marry Sophie.

\- Oh. Well, she is a nice girl indeed.

\- I know… - His voice cracked for a second, but he continued. – So I was thinking of marrying her when I become a famous composer.

\- What makes you think you are going to be one?

\- I wrote a symphony. – He stated. – It is nearly 1900. – He added explainingly.

\- I don't see how it is in connection with you and Sophie.

\- I will publish my symphony and earn a tad of money then I ask her to marry me as I will be able to support her.

\- You are such a child. – Erik smiled and shook his head. – You are just like your Mama, dreaming all the time.

\- So… what to do?

\- At first, dear, if you like Sophie, be kind to her. You hardly ever speak to her when you are together. I bet she knows nothing of your feelings.

\- Because I am afraid she likes me not.

\- Well you have to find it out. If you like her, give her compliments. Tell her she is kind, she is beautiful, and so. And if she likes you back, she will do the same. I think, you shall wait until you both turn mature, and then, she will eventually tell you the answer to that special question. But it is not until you can support both yourself and her. Believe me, it will take years. But don't get sad. I suggest you just to do what you did before. Play and write music, play with the others, and be kind to Sophie. You will eventually find out the answer.

\- Thank you Papa. – He smiled.

The things Erik said sounded logical, and though he wished to move to the next step as soon as possible, he knew it was wiser many times to wait. Erik had to laugh at this small silly boy. He thought and acted like a naïve little child. And he was yet thinking of marriage… what a cute idea, the small Don Juan.

Christmas came, Christmas of 1899.

That Christmas was remembered well by the whole family, especially poor Christine, who nearly had a heart attack.

Everything went fine up until they started to open gifts. The family got common gifts, and they were having fun up until the point Mahtab lifted up a small box which was addressed for her.

\- It is from me. – Erik said. – You will like it.

Christine did not think of anything special. Maybe some manly thing for the teen, to feel herself more like a man…? Maybe a new cravat pin or cufflinks? But then why that box is so big? The lid was opened and Christine gasped upon the sight of a smaller kind of silver colored, brand new pistol in the box. With a scream she fainted.

She woke up to the sensation of sneezing from smelling salts as her head lay on Erik's knee. She faintly looked around and noticed Mahtab happily meddling with that horrid thing. It wasn't a dream.

\- Thank you, Papa, I wanted this…! How did you know? – She inquired happily.

\- Christine, please, don't make a scene. – Erik's voice pleaded in her right ear. – I will explain later.

Christine, yet it was rather hard for her to compose herself, did not say a bad word about the pistol, but asked Mahtab not to carry it around with her to the dinner table. It simply does not belong there. She obeyed, and also to Erik, when he informed her that the pistol was to be only used when he can control her, and only he shall give it to her, and will take it away when it is not used. She agreed to these terms.

Later, when Erik and Christine stayed alone, she just sighed and turned to Erik.

\- Christine, Mahtab needs to learn how to defend herself. We talked about this before.

\- We did, and I did not like the idea of the lasso either, but the pistol is too much.

\- It isn't. Christine, the Punjab string is only good for fighting at short distance. Mahtab needs a pistol to be able to be in advance from long distance as well. She can shoot before they arrive. Don't worry. Erik will control her while learning. We only aim at lifeless objects. She shall never ever aim the gun at a family member or friend. If she does, may or may she not be a teen, I spank her as she won't be able to sit for weeks.

\- Well… I am not happy about a girl with a pistol.

\- Oh ho, dear Christine! – Erik laughed out. – At first, Mahtab is a boy. It was told to you many times. Secondly, you also own a pistol.

\- What?

\- Don't play the deaf, dear. You keep it in the second to last drawer of your nightstand, left side in the back. In a Swedish flag patterned case.

\- How did you… know it?

\- I am your husband. I take care of the house for years. I find everything.

\- Only for… self-defense.

\- Well, Mahtab's is only for self- defense as well. – Erik shrugged. – We are going to have the first lesson tomorrow.

\- All right. – She nodded and lowered her head. – But please take care. I worry about her.

\- We all do. – Erik agreed. – You shall worry only if she can't defend herself. And we will take good care, don't worry. Erik is an excellent shooter. He never misses.

Well, Christine still wasn't too happy about the fact, but she decided to let them do so. Mahtab adored the pistol. It looked so awesome, and she felt like an adult when she had it in her hand. At the grip, there was a big letter "M" engraved, making it even more personal for her. She was so excited at her first lesson, holding it and running outside with Erik in the snow. They stood in front of a tree. Erik carved a dartboard on the tree and walked next to his daughter.

\- All right, try to aim at the center. Just like me. – Erik showed her what to do and how to handle the weapon, then shot right in the middle of the board. – Your turn.

She lifted the pistol just as she saw from Papa, and sent a shot at the poor tree. It reached the edge of the board.

\- Not bad for first try, but you shall be more exact. With a bad aim you are helpless.

\- I understand. – She nodded, then shot again. This time the bullet hit the fence next to the tree.

\- Try to imagine it is someone you hate. – Erik advised.

\- I don't hate anyone. – Mahtab wondered. – Why, who do you hate, Papa?

\- No one in particular nowadays. – He shrugged. – But it helps. Just try to imagine the people who hurt you earlier. The kids at school, or the people on the train.

\- Oh… those… - Mahtab wheezed, remembering back at those scenes. She lifted the pistol and shot the dartboard right in the middle, accidentally picturing one of the faces in front of her. – That's it. – She smirked. – That served you right.

\- Indeed. – Erik patted her shoulder. – Excellent shot.

Christine was worriedly examining them from the window, but she found out with relief that no one got hurt during that macabre little play.

Mahtab found out that shooting got really much easier as she imagined those hostile faces in front of herself. She let out a small laugh each time she scored. She took it as a game, and finally she could get rid of the stress piled up in her soul for years. She isn't helpless any more. Should someone be so idiot to attack her or her family…

They shall get it.


	60. Chapter 60

After the first few lessons, Mahtab got better and better at shooting. She was soon able to shoot and score on moving targets as well. Erik was proud of her, as he did not think she will be so good at this hard sport. She got rewards for each great shot as encouragement, which did not make Christine happy at all. She did find the idea of the lessons a big enough craziness and mistake without the treats as well. She hated that pistol and Mahtab's self-defense lessons for more reasons. She was always terrified that Mahtab will once cause an accident with the weapon, wounding or killing someone in the family, and there was a bigger problem as well:

The younger children wanted to try it as well, especially Noel, but Erik always sent them away strictly while the lessons lasted. Noel did not really like the fact that Papa does not let him shoot, as he was sure he would be able to handle the gun just as well as his older sibling, but Erik wasn't changing his mind. Yet, he was willing to offer him something for a compensation.

\- So, you may ask anything but the shooting lessons, Noel. What should that be?

The boy, who already was taller than Flo, thin as a rake, and even his voice was now similar to Erik's, even though he was only 10 years old, stroke his chin for a few seconds, then his eyes lit up with sudden interest and he sent a glance at his father, then he spat out:

\- Fireworks.

\- What?

\- I want to make fireworks for New Year's Eve.

\- No! – Christine shook her head as she heard what her son was up to.

\- Mama, don't be so slavish. It is nearly 1900, I pray. The new century is coming. Everyone is having fireworks but us.

\- True, even the de Chagnys. – Erik replied.

\- I don't care what they might have. – Christine retorted. – We aren't having them.

\- Christine, it is a manly project. – Erik argued. – If you don't wish to do it, then don't. We will.

Erik allowed Noel to have fireworks for two reasons. Firstly, if it is supervised by an experienced engineer and scientist, things will go fine, it is actually, in Erik's opinion, safer than shooting lessons. Secondly, he had to admit, he loved the idea as well. Also, a reason he did not like to admit: Noel was just as mischevious stubborn and naughty boy as Erik was in his childhood, so he was afraid Noel might do even worse things than the shooting and the fireworks if he declines both, and the boy will search for a way to entertain himself. There was a downside of having two children with scientific interest in the house, who also happened to be smarter than the average children. Florian thankfully was only a slave of music, and wasn't into burning, exploding and shooting things. Erik was relieved at that thought – two children with dangerous hobbies were quite enough for one household.

\- Well, just wait until I tell your new crazy acts to Mohammed. I will inform him about both the shooting lessons and that you allowed Noel to meddle with gunpowder. Wait and see what you get from him! – Christine spat out angrily while leaving the room.

The Daroga…? He did not even show up lately. It was strange, and alarming, as he did not arrive for Christmas either, yet he was invited. He sent him a letter. Did he not get it perhaps? It was alarming, to tell the truth. The old Persian cop would always look after him, and follow him to play the usual silly game of his. If he did not show up for… hm two weeks… maybe three? Was something wrong with him?

He decided he shall check on his old friend, and left the house, shortly informing Christine about his worries. Christine repeated that she hoped Erik will get what he deserved for the new crazy plans, and asked Erik to tell the Daroga her best wishes.

With strong misgiving, he walked up on the stairs of the flat at the Rue de Rivoli. Well, if the mountain does not go to Mohammed, then Mohammed shall go to the mountain. Well, this stairwell seems to be bigger and bigger, especially now with his knees in pain. He had to lean on his walking stick as it was nearly impossible for him without it to go up those floors. He wondered for a time how on Earth would he walk up and down those thousands of stairs at the Opera. He knocked on the door, and hoped to talk to the Daroga and resolve whatever problems they might have. Did he get angry? But he did not say anything hurtful to him when they met for the last time. It was taking extremely long until the door finally opened. Erik was thinking of worse and worse possibilities while waiting for someone to finally answer his impatient knocking, then later, doorbell concert. After some time, he even banged on the door with his stick. What on Earth has happened here? Everyone is dead and buried?

Finally that fool Darius opened the goddamned door, and looked at Erik as if he was a lunatic.

\- Monsieur, I'd suggest you to stop it. – He groaned angrily.

\- How much time does it require you to answer a door? Is this not your job? – Erik retorted without tiring himself with the formalities of apologizing or saying hello.

\- Leave, Monsieur.

\- I wish to talk to the Daroga.

\- It isn't possible now.

\- Why?

\- Because he receives no visitors.

\- I am not leaving until I talk to him. Is he angry with me?

\- No.

\- Then he will talk to me. – Erik passed through the small opening of the front door next to the astonished Darius. Well, that skeletal man was thin enough to fit. And Darius always knew Erik had no manners, but he should at least have taken up some politeness in those years…

\- Monsieur, stop! – Darius took that bony shoulder and tried to turn the uninvited visitor towards the door, but the next moment he felt a forceful push on his stomach and he fell back.

Erik was really nervous now. He did not like if Darius messed with him, especially not when he was worried. He found it strange that the Persian did not arrive in the hall to investigate the quarrel and scrummage between them. It wasn't a good sign at all. Nervously he knocked on the living room door, but no reply came. He, not paying any attention to that stupid servant getting up and wheezing behind him, he headed to the bedroom door. He was now sure the Daroga was ill, or… dead…

He opened the door without knocking this time as he was prepared for the worst. The Daroga was in bed, indeed, in a poorly lit and airless small bedroom. There was a total mess with clothes laying on the floor, some untouched and cooled food on the end table next to the bed, and an unemptied chamber pot next to the bed's leg which, of course made the room's air more unbearable. Erik nearly threw up when taking a deep breath and walked to the window to open it. His eyes grew wide open upon seeing the chaos and the miserable state his friend was in. He did not speak after noticing Erik's presence in the room. The man though the Persian did not even acknowledge it was him. He walked to the bed and covered the Daroga up. He wasn't hot to touch, maybe he did not have fever?

\- I am sorry, I have to get some fresh air in. – He explained. He did not expect the Persian to reply, but thankfully, he did.

\- Erik… you… here…

He sounded strange, as he was drunk. His tongue was forming words with a great difficulty.

\- Erik is here. – He nodded, and patted the Daroga's hand. – Can you tell me what has happened? – He inquired partly with the knowledge of an experienced doctor, and partly worried about his old friend.

\- I… I… got… dizzy and… fell.

\- And?

\- And.. woke up ….weak. can't… move with… left hand.

\- Only your hand or your leg also?

\- Hand.

\- When did this happen?

\- Few days…

\- Did Darius fetch a doctor for you?

\- No.

\- Why not? – He got angrier, and turned towards the door, where he saw the servant, but the miserable rat ran away before he, at least could have thrown the chamber pot at him.

\- I… did not… want to. – The Daroga replied.

Erik found it a better idea not to say a thing to this stupidity. He just shook his head, and took a deep breath to calm his nerves down a bit.

\- Erik it is… not his fault. – The Persian explained. – I… I… was unbearable… in these.. past days. I know. I threw… things at him.

\- He deserved. Daroga, you would have needed a doctor right after you woke up. – Erik sighed bitterly. – Daroga, I am afraid you had a stroke.

\- No… I believe not…

\- I believe yes. – Erik barked. – And we will find it out.

\- You know… I dislike… doctors.

\- And yet it was always you that nagged me to see one if I had some problems.

\- It is easy… to advise… until it is you…

\- I know. – He nodded. – But now you really are in need of a doctor. Please.

\- Can't you…?

\- Me, Daroga, I am not a doctor, and you know that.

\- You… know a lot.

\- I am not enough to treat this, Daroga. Please let me take you out of this stable and fetch a doctor for you.

\- Take… out…? Where do you want to take me?

\- Home. Look, you can't stay here all alone.

\- Darius… is here.

\- I see, he is very useful and caring. – Erik snorted sarcastically. – Enough of this, Mohammed- Ismael.

Erik wrapped the Daroga in a warm blanket, putting the hat on his head, and lifted him out of the bed. Erik carried his friend outside, accompanied by the Persian's protesting.

\- Erik, are you crazy? I am heavy, and you are old… and…

\- Shut up, Daroga. – Erik ordered in Farsi, then added softer, nearly begging. – Daroga, you can't do this to me. Please let me help you. You will live up to the next century, understood? If Erik stays alive, you stay alive as well. You are younger, you should outlive me and dance on my grave.

\- You… say I can die?

\- If it is what I think it is, then yes. – Erik sighed. – Please don't die earlier than me.

\- I am only younger by two years. – The Persian smiled tiredly. – It is not much in our age.

\- Two and a half. – Erik retorted. – And I said shut up. If you keep your mouth open in this cold weather, you catch a cold. And that is what you need the least in this situation.

Erik placed the Daroga carefully in a coach and ordered it to his home. He was now cursing in his mind that he had those seizures earlier, as it resulted in the leech denying him from driving an automobile, so he had to sell that precious possession, forcing himself back in the situation of depending on cabs. He had to admit though, that Bonsanté was right, as he knew he could get another seizure anytime, and maybe he would not be so lucky the next time. He understood it, of course- but did not like the fact at all.

The Daroga was moved in with the Spöke family. Christine felt utterly sorry for the poor old Persian, and she liked him a lot, she thought the Daroga shall not be left alone for the rest of his life in that flat, and the children were happy to have the loved Uncle with them – even if he was a bit of ill these days. Yes, he had a stroke. Thankfully, it wasn't too serious, as if it was, the Daroga sure would have died by that time Erik had found him. The doctor said he might be able to use his hand again, if they work on it with Erik. The man was so patient with his old friend and encouraged him to try to move his left as well.

\- I'd have never believed it will be you one day to care about me. – Mohammed admitted.

\- Me neither. But to be exact… I just repay the services you did for me once.

\- Thank you for… not letting me there alone.

\- Daroga, you don't believe me maybe… but I could kill to save you. Still.

The Persian, yet he wasn't too happy to hear this sentence from Erik, because it contained the word "killing", yet he appreciated the fact that his old friend got to like him so in the last twenty years or so. He was nearly killed by him in 1881, yet he was saved by him now, and Erik was really kind and supportive towards him. Working with his hand contained a task he would have never imagined to happen: Erik offered to teach him to play the piano.

That made the Daroga so happy, as he always wanted to learn an instrument, but Erik always refused to bother before, as he thought the Daroga as a total talentless person.

\- You can't carry a tune. Everything you do is off pitched. You can't whistle, you can't sing, you have no sense of rhythm, and you are most certainly tone- deaf, Daroga. – He would state earlier.

Yet Erik still wasn't delighted about his friend's musical talent, or to be clear, the lack of it, as he was really terrible at learning things, he did not show it, or did not remark it any more. Mohammed was happy, as he was able to learn how to play a scale with at least his right, and sometimes, if Erik placed his ill hand on the keyboard, he was sometimes able to softly press a key.

Florian was also glad to see Tonton Mohammed wishing to learn music. Other than Erik, he was the one who took Tonton under his protective wings, and during a music lesson, on 31st December, he leaned closer to the Daroga and softly whispered:

\- Tonton, I wrote a symphony. – His voice was so eager and happy, that the Persian, even though he could not read music, asked the boy to show the work to him.

Flo ran away for some seconds, then arrived back with a thick sheet music under his arm, and sat back down on the piano bench, handing the Daroga his first symphony ever. The Persian was smiling as he was looking at the carefully and beautifully written notes and rests, linebars and some other signs he could not name.

\- I am proud of you, Flo, even though I can't read it. – He smiled. – It is a man's work to write such a thing. Did you show it to your father yet?

\- No. – Flo shook his head. – I did not dare to.

\- Why? – Mohammed inquired with astonishment.

\- Because Papa says one can't make a living out of music only and he often scolds me that I spend too much time composing or playing music, and too little to study science or Math. He says I need a job, and he will most likely send me as an aid for some workshop.

\- It is strange from your father. Do you want me to talk to him about this?

\- Would you… please? – Flo swallowed, and looked the Daroga in the eye, as he was asking for help.

\- But of course. Leave this here, and I will show it to Erik. I am sure if he notices your talent, he will be understanding and lets you follow your dreams.

Flo walked away with a relief and hoped the best of outcomes to happen if Papa sees the score.

As Erik walked in the music room and sat down at the piano, the Persian called out to him, and lifted his healthy hand holding Flo's work.

\- What's that? – He asked.

\- Your son's symphony. Will you look at it?

Erik took the sheet music, and without even looking at the notes, he started criticizing with an irritated little sigh. The title announced "Symphony of the new sentury".

\- "Century" is written with "c", not "s", son.

\- Erik, for the beard of the Prophet, he is only a 12 year old child! Look at the music, and shut your face.

As Erik started reading the work, he had to admit it was something new, and genial, especially from such a young person. It was very good, containing unusual, but not unpleasant harmonies, which really indicated the threshold of a new century. It was modern. He often nodded while reading, and when he finished the first movement, he placed the music down on the piano.

\- Florian gave it to you? – He turned to the Daroga.

\- Yes. He did not dare to show it to you.

\- I know. – He nodded shortly.

\- Erik, why do you say he can't live from music? You are a musician yourself, for Allah!

\- That is why.

\- Explain.

\- Well, you see, I am not a musician, or at least I did not make money with music. – Erik started. – Even if I led a normal life, I worked as a contractor, or a mason, or an aid for a smith in my youth. I made money out of the work of my hands. It was the surest way possible. Music, Daroga, is not a job you can earn with. It is rather a religion.

\- But your wife is an opera singer!

\- Singers are fine, but Flo does not have that a great singing voice to be able to do so. I would say he would be an excellent concert pianist, but as I noticed, he rather wants to compose than perform already existing works. And the problem lies here.

\- Why do you say he can't earn money by composing?

\- I am not sure how familiar are you with music history, but please list me rich composers if you know. Other than Handel, as he was a rare exception. Well, not even rich, but who at least could make ends meet. I warn you, it is nearly impossible.

\- So are you afraid Florian will be poor?

\- Flo reminds me of Mozart in a way. – Erik sighed. – A child prodigy with much energy and determination to compose. He was celebrated by whole Europe as a child, yet when he grew out of the role of the cute boy, no one found him such a miracle any more. He was no longer a cute boy, just a talented, mostly ordinary musician in the eyes of most people. Later he wrote masterpieces, true, but ordinary people are not intelligent enough to appreciate a genius or to even KNOW his work is magnificent. Mozart had trouble selling his works, and he was in financial breakdown in all his life. The poor devil was also a very emotional fellow, so he took everything too seriously which resulted in him utterly burning out and working himself to death at the age of 35. Florian is nearly the same. Naïve, easily impressed and easily influenced, he thinks everyone wants the best for him. Just like his mother. He is choosing a profession for himself which is ruining and wrecking his soul in twenty years or so. That is why I don't like the thought of him wanting this as a main profession. I would be calmer if he chose a safer job, and kept music as a dear hobby, just like me. If I did not dare to live on publishing only, being a much stronger person than him emotionally, what will he do?

\- I see now what you mean. – The Persian lowered his head. – But at least praise him for this symphony, Erik. He is so clinging to your opinion.

Erik nodded and picked up the work from the piano, walking outside to search for Flo.

He was humming to himself, holding his Math book on his lap. He would have needed to study, as Erik was asking him every day, but he was lost again in music. Erik had to realize he did not do it intentionally, it was just the way he was. Erik gently lifted the book up from Flo's lap and put it down on the table, closed.

\- Let's not focus on that on the last day of 1899. – He smiled and patted the boy's dark curls and placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

\- Oh Papa… thank you! – He hugged Erik's neck with love.

\- I really like your symphony, Flo. – Erik stated proudly. – You write better music than your father.

\- Really? – His eyes filled up with tears of joy and thankfulness.

\- Yes. – Erik nodded. – You are a talented musician, my son. I am proud of you and I love you a lot.

\- I love you too, Papa… so, will you allow me to be a musician?

\- Let's make a compromise. – Erik started. – I will send this symphony to a publisher with a letter that it was written by my son, who is not older than 12. If we get a positive response, I will support your career as a musician. If not, we will search a safe and respectful profession for you we both like.

\- It sounds a fair idea, Papa. Thank you. – Flo smiled widely.

The Daroga did not really like the fact either that Noel created fireworks using gunpowder, but he wasn't in the state of health that he could stop him. He felt still a bit of weak and could only use one hand, and Noel was a healthy young boy who ran faster than a rabbit. And anyways… he was sure Erik will take care so that he won't cause trouble. Around nine o clock the first dosage was launched and Noel was jumping around laughing in the snow as happy as Erik did not remember seeing him in his all life. Flo just stood in the doorway pale from fright as he thought there will be a bad thing to happen, but after some moments he giggled as he liked the sight of fireworks exploding in the air. Mahtab and Noel worked in team, while Erik checked every movement of theirs to make sure everything was all right, and after he asked them to go back in the house as it was cold. He did not want them to start the New Year with a nasty cold.

The children were allowed to stay up after midnight on that special day, so that they will wait for 1900 together, save for Belle who fell asleep on Mama's lap not much after half past ten. Christine went to the children's room to put the small sleeping girl to bed, as she was yet too small to stay up so late. As the mother left with Belle, and Erik and the Daroga were waiting for her to return in front of the fireplace, the Daroga smiled at his friend.

\- I think I can thank you for being alive tonight and going to the next century with you.

\- You would've never imagined this scenario to happen, did you, eh?

\- No. – The Daroga laughed shortly.

\- You know, I did not think either that I would be still here on this Earth in 1900, with a beautiful wife and four beloved children. Unbelievable.

\- Don't forget the cat. – Christine returned with a chuckle and sat back down.

\- True. – Erik nodded. – Monsieur, forgive me for nearly leaving you out. – He stroke the cat's chin as the animal appeared near his feet.

Suddenly all three children ran to the drawing room as they got tired of running around the house, and Christine also warned them to be more quiet as their small sister was asleep. Erik suddenly had an idea, having all of the kids in the same room, and left the room for some moments. He returned with both Flo's and his violin and handed his son his instrument.

\- Erik, quietly… - Christine warned the boys, but the proud father waved in the air playfully.

\- Belle slept through the second Hungarian Rhapsody on the music room's couch with her fists closed and mouth wide open. She did not move a bit while I was thundering Liszt. She will be fine.

They played parts from Flo's symphony, proudly showing it to Christine and the Daroga, who were utterly speechless of the boy's talent. The child was beaming with pride as the accords he wrote were floating in the air. He was smiling widely as his parents, his Uncle, and his siblings were congratulating him.

At midnight, Noel and the others ran to the backyard to launch another set of fireworks, and when they ran out of them, they returned in the drawing room. They sang Ode to Joy together, everyone was singing, even the Daroga, as Erik asked him to join. The children held hands, Erik and Christine hugged each other lovingly and the Daroga placed a friendly hand on Erik's shoulder. The children received a cup of hot chocolate, after the singing for clinking cups, and were sent to get ready for bed as they finished it. They did not whine about it this time – they were a bit of sleepy already to tell the truth.

\- Here, Daroga. – Erik arrived with a glass and handed it to the Persian.

\- I am not allowed to drink…

\- Alcohol. I know. But it is orange juice. – Erik laughed out.

\- Oh…. You… - He laughed as he checked the contents, and found out it was really orange juice. – Christine, your husband is turning mature. This is the first time he doesn't fool me with the drinks.

\- How come? – Christine looked at Erik with surprise. – Why would you fool him?

\- You know dear, he is not allowed to have alcohol because of his religion, and I used to trick him by pouring him a glassful of white wine that looked like water in poor lighting, claiming it was only water. He always had a sip before realizing what he had. I can't believe he always got fooled. He never learned.

\- I just hoped you will stop. – The Daroga laughed. – Which would finally happen, perhaps?

\- Maybe. Or you could just say I did not fool you once in a century. Maybe we should wait for the next New Year's Eve and see, eh?

They laughed, even Christine found it funny, as they had a glass of wine with Erik. They did not know what the New Year got stored for all of them, but they were sure in one thing: They loved each other and knew they will be together, whatever happens.

They wished each other a Happy New Year and New century smiling, looking forward to the future with growing hopes.


	61. Chapter 61

The New Year seemed to be nothing special once everything got back into normal. Days had passed just as earlier, there was no miraculous sign of something new, something different. 1900 seemed to be just as ordinary, boring and monotone as 1899. The children were a bit of disappointed about it. There was yet again schooling, tutoring, taking care of Belle and doing things like they did earlier.

\- What did you think, my dear children, what should happen at midnight on New Year's? Did you expect the world is going to end and here comes the resurrection with angel's choir and Halleluiah? – Erik mocked playfully. – This is just another year, as the others. Nothing happens.

Florian was the one who got the most disappointed of the children regarding his future. The publisher did not say anything to his work in whole January, and not even in February…. March…

\- Papa, why don't they publish my symphony at last? – He asked numerous times. Erik would tell him usually to be patient, but once he decided to finally be honest and have the talk with the boy.

\- Look, Flo. I told you it is not that easy to earn money with composing, right?

\- Right, Papa, but it has been months and…

\- Yes. It does take months. Long months. Publishers don't get only two sheet music a year, son. They have tons of works to judge, and most of them are utter rubbish. No, not your symphony. But to be honest, I think it is at the bottom of some of their drawers yet. Maybe they find it soon, or later. Depends on how much work they have with them, and how much do they wish to work a day. That is why I said you can't live from only composing when you grow up. You hand in a manuscript. And? You can't just wait for them to return it, Flo. You have to live in those months as well until they finally see it at least. I told you: you can't support a family from composing only. Mozart tried it. He died at the age of 35 and left a widow with two young children in poverty. Do you wish to father children and ask for loans in whole Paris until you literally drown in debt?

\- And Bach? How could he support 20 kids being a composer?

\- Bach wasn't a composer as a main profession, he was an organist and conductor at a church. He had a full time job. Composing, if you like, was his hobby. They weren't rich either, mind you.

\- Then what should I do if I want to be a musician, Papa? I don't want to be an architect.

\- With your inability to count to 100 without the aid of your toes, you don't have to be afraid of the possibility of being an architect. – Erik remarked softly, but as he did not wish to humiliate the boy even more, he just turned around and put his hand on Florian's shoulder comfortingly. – I can't see why you couldn't be a violinist in an orchestra, or a concert pianist. You have talent for it. You play beautifully. And you like it, don't you?

\- Yes Papa, but…

\- But?

\- But I'd die if people other than my family… heard me play. I am… so I just…

\- Oh, you have stage fright. – Erik laughed out. – That's nothing, son. You can get used to it.

\- Really…? Will it get… better?

\- Yes it will. Just try to play music to others as well. Once it will get better and you get used to audience. You can apply to study at the Conservatory here in Paris. And I bet you will be accepted. Learn the profession with your mind and your heart as well. Then, I am sure when you will grow up, you will be an awesome musician.

\- And how should I marry Sophie if…

\- You are so young yet. It is not even legal in your age to marry a girl. Be a child. Enjoy yourself. And if Sophie loves you, she will marry you when you both grow up.

Flo was temporarily calmed down with this talk. Erik, though, wasn't totally honest with his son. The truth was that the publishers indeed saw and judged Florian's symphony, but the letters he received in return with the manuscript, were terribly disappointing. Erik sent the work to all of the publishers in Paris, but it was always returned with rejection. The problem wasn't the quality of the symphony- on the contrary. Half of the publishers simply labelled the issue as a "scam" as there was absolutely no way that a 12 year old child could write such a thing. And even if it is so, they don't publish anything from a child, so Flo should only try again when he turns 21, as a legally adult French citizen. It is nine years yet. Erik did not wish to tell it to the boy, as he knew, with his painfully sensitive soul, he would not take so many rejections well. Erik's only hope remained that he started writing letters in foreign language and copied the symphony in more copies, sending them away to abroad. Maybe England or Germany will be less picky and may accept a genius… as this child certainly is one.

The Persian got better slowly and steady of his stroke he had suffered around Christmas. Erik was trying to help him with his left hand getting movable again, and he was comforting his old Persian friend when he was about to give up.

\- I can't do it Erik. I can't feel my hand.

\- It is not necessary to feel it to be able to move it, Daroga. Believe me, I know it.

\- It will never move again.

\- Not if you give up. Try to lift one of your fingers. It worked for the last time and I am sure it will work now as well.

Many- many painful tries were made, for months. There were harder times, but in the end, around May, Mohammed was able to lift his hand up a bit and reach out for things. His grip wasn't strong, but if he got ahold of a pencil or some smaller object, he was able to hold it between two fingers. They were practicing with pocket watch chains, cufflinks, pencils or ruler. The Daroga could not believe he developed so much in just some months. Maybe there was still hope for him?

Belle, or by full name Belle Lotte Spöke was nearly two years old. Christine was sometimes addressing her "Little Lotte" and gifted her with a red scarf same as she did own in her childhood. The little girl loved if people sang for her, yet Erik was sure she was tone deaf, as she liked even the Daroga's singing voice, if the Persian had one at all. The Persian was singing her in Farsi and Christine sange her Swedish folk songs as she held her on her lap, so they noticed after a time the small girl understood some word in Swedish as well as French. She was using simpler words by her second Birthday, and learned to pronounce the name of her family members' right. Florian was called 'Flo' by her as well, but she did not have problem telling Mahtab's name any more. She adored the cat. Monsieur LeChat was hugged by her all the time if she could get him. The cat was surprisingly patient and easygoing with the child, and did not hurt her, contrary to Christine's fears. Other animals woke her interest as well. Mahtab's old ABC book from which she learned to read contained pictures of animals as well and the spelling of their names. She loved that page of the book and would carry it around to randomly shove the book under someone's nose (save for Erik, as he did not have one…) and randomly point at an animal there, announcing "Ducky" or "hoosy-hooosy" to the person, as if they were totally unable to recognize a horse or a duck without her assistance.

\- Yes, dear, horsey. – Erik patted her head and gently pushed her back, to send her to the other direction once after the fifth time in a row she showed up with the "horsey" the same afternoon.

\- Horsey for me. – She turned back and looked at Erik with a huge smile.

\- What horsey for you, eh? – Erik laughed. – You don't want a horse. WWe don't have a stable.

\- Horsey. – She repeated with determination.

\- No horsey. – Erik shook his head. – What an idea…

Erik loved horses as well, so he would not actually mind one, so Belle will have her dream come true, but he knew a horse wasn't a toy. It was a living being who needed caretaking. A stable to be built wasn't that hard, and it would have fit on the lot, but cleaning, feeding and walking it regularly wasn't an activity Erik wished for with his joints in pain mostly. And he knew ell that the children won't really help him with it, except Mahtab maybe. No, no horsey for Belle.

Yet he was into one idea. Christine suggested a vacation in Perros so that Belle will see that beautiful place for the first time, and all of them could use some relaxing. It was true. They were planning to spend the summer in Perros. Having the house totally renewed in Perros they could use anytime, it wasn't a problem. He and Mahtab went to tidy the house two weeks before the others arranged arrival, and checked if there was anything to be fixed. They lived and cleaned there for a week, but Mahtab realized Erik had trouble walking up on the stairs to the gallery where the beds were.

\- Who was the idiot that put the beds up there? – He moaned.

\- You. – Mahtab pointed out.

\- You shall not answer all my questions. – He threatened playfully shaking his finger at her.

\- Papa, are you sure you are all right? – She leaned closer, worriedly.

\- Meh. – Erik laughed out. – It is good for you, child. You have neither arms nor legs.

\- I have them, Papa. – Mahtab tilted her head to the side in astonishment.

\- Oh no… not yet. You will have them when you can feel them. – Erik laughed. – It is just how growing old works.

\- You are not old. – Mahtab shook her head.

\- Almost 70, child. If that isn't old, I don't know what is.

\- 100. – She spat it out proudly.

\- Oh, ho! Well, I inform you I don't wish to live for 100 years, dear child. People don't usually live for 100 years anyways.

\- How much do they live then?

\- Depends. There are people who die in their 50s, and others die at 80.

\- Papa, what shall happen to us if…

\- Don't bury me yet. – He scolded. – I am not going to die because of only my legs hurting. I did survive much worse things as well. I promise I am going to fight if I can, to support you all. But you shall not worry over my death, Mahtab, as it will poison your life. Believe me, there are much worse things to worry about. – He hugged her neck comfortingly.

Mahtab was happier and less worried about Erik as she saw her father was still able to do any works. Slower than he used to, but he was quite all right with climbing up on the roof to clean the leaves out of the gutter, or such works. He wasn't that old yet. She was sure her father never grows old.

As there were just the two of them for two weeks, she walked out every day to catch fish for dinner for them. Getting fish and preparing meals was her job. Both her and her father liked fish, so they were fine with it. As she was finished with her latest growing phase, Erik, contrary to Christine's continuous contrariety, created a similar full face human face like mask for Mahtab as his, earlier that year, so that she won't be instantly picked on if she leaves the house. She even had a small blondish mustache to look like a teenage boy, and she was able to brush her thick blonde hair the way it covered the edges of the mask, so she looked natural. People did not even give her a second look. She looked normal, along with her father in public. Only at home they wore their real faces.

One day when she was fishing, she suddenly heard a cry for help. Alarmed she jumped up to see what has happened, and noticed a girl in the water, trying her best to stay afloat. Without hesitation she threw her jacket and shoes off to run into the water and rescue her. She learned to swim from Erik in the earlier Perros vacations, and as she exactly remembered back from her early childhood how did it feel to be nearly drowned, when she fell into the lake under the Opera, she exactly knew what the girl was going through. She had to help her.

She swam as fast as possible and pulled the girl out on the shore. She worriedly checked her pulse and breathing and was relieved to see that the girl opened her eyes and coughed up water.

\- It is all right. Don't be afraid. – Mahtab comforted her compassionately. – I am here and will help you.

\- What is your… name…? – She asked faintly, looking at this quite handsome boy she met.

\- Mahtab. And yours?

\- Thank you… for saving me. – She shuddered. – Mahtab…?

\- Yes. It is a rare name, not French. Persian. – She explained while putting her dry jacket over the girl's shoulder and back to make her feel better.

\- My name is Julie. – The girl said after some pause. She was beautiful, to tell the truth. She had brown hair and blue eyes, and a beautifully symmetric face.

\- Nice to meet you. – Mahtab smiled.

\- Same here. – Julie smiled. She had a beautifully kind smile and a nice speaking voice. – Are you here for vacation? – She asked curiously.

\- Yes, with my father, and we are preparing our house for the others to arrive soon. I have three siblings. But I think we should go to someplace dry as you will catch a cold if you stay here in these wet clothes. May I accompany you home? – Mahtab offered.

\- Oh, thank you, but I shall go home alone. You know… my father does not like… boys… with me.

\- I see. – Mahtab nodded, yet she wasn't sure why that was a problem.

\- But we can meet tomorrow as my father works. – Julie added.

\- That would be great. – Mahtab smiled widely as her heart felt a sensation she did not know before. That girl was so kind and beautiful. She waved for Mahtab so nicely as she returned the jacket before running home.

Erik did not know about the girl. Mahtab got home with wet clothes, but she only said she slipped in water. As he knew she was a great swimmer now just like him, he did not ask any more questions. Mahtab wasn't sure why, but she wished to keep Julie as a secret for herself. Maybe Papa won't like the idea she was going to see a girl.

Yet Erik wasn't stupid. He found out what was going on when he saw Mahtab and Julie walking together on the shore, hand in hand, talking to each other about everything. It happened every day. He did not mention it or made a fuss about it though. Children experience these feelings. Just an infatuation comes and goes. Once they return to Paris, they will forget each other and live just as they did before. Why not giving Mahtab a few happy weeks with her first love interest?

Christine, however, wasn't this happy and accepting about her daughter dating another girl openly. When she got to know about Mahtab meeting a girl like that for two weeks already, she wanted to scold the child as soon as she returns. Erik literally had to force her back in a seating position.

\- Will you listen to me, woman? – He growled.

Christine wasn't any more used to that tone from her husband, and had a jawdrop as Erik continued his speech.

\- One more time, I am going to explain: Mahtab is a boy. He decided this way. Now think logically: as a boy, you are about to flirt with women. Right?

\- She is a girl. – Christine retorted angrily. – And a girl shall not court a girl!

\- Biologically yes, she was born to be a girl, but she feels like a boy. And he likes a girl as a boy, not as a girl. Anyway, these first loves mean literally nothing.

\- As you say. Raoul was my first love and I loved him still when we were adults.

\- While not even meeting him for decades. – Erik retorted. – No. You loved the memories of him. Not himself.

\- That is how you were trying to manipulate me in the Opera as well, when…

\- Stop this. – Erik groaned. – The kids might get in anytime and I don't wish them to hear about my past as the "you know what of the what".

The Phantom of the Opera word connection wasn't allowed to be used by either the Daroga or Christine around the children. Erik did not want to tell the children about his past as the Opera Ghost, so the kids only knew their Papa was a contractor, and once he was teaching Mama to sing.

After some silence, Erik talked again, with a forced calmness.

\- So. Mahtab is fine as he is, and if you dare to scold and humiliate him about being in love, I swear to God, you will meet the "you know what of the what" again…

\- Are you sure it is all right to let her…

\- Him… yes.

\- As you wish. – Christine bit her lips and nodded slowly.

Day by day, Mahtab and Julie got closer and closer emotionally. They told each other their deepest secrets and emotions. Mahtab's altered voice did enchant the girl and she smiled at her while they were talking. Mahtab also turned out to be extremely kind and compassionate. She wasn't mocked by Mahtab, so Julie was happy she at least found a nice looking, and kind boy. Mahtab was nothing like her previous loves. There were a lot of boys in her life already, yet she was only 16, but none of them were like Mahtab.

Mahtab wanted to impress her love even more, so she turned to Flo for help.

\- Dearest little brother… - She started.

\- Yes? – Flo got surprised, as he was used to his siblings being kind to him, but it was still rare one of them called him "dearest little brother".

\- Would you be so kind to give me that serenade you wrote? Please.

\- I wrote it for Sophie. – Flo shook his head.

\- But… you did not yet show it to her, did you?

\- No… I was waiting for the perfect occasion to…

\- Please dear, I can't write as beautiful music as you can. Flo, please… I give a service in return of your service.

\- What sort of service?

\- I will do your math homework for you for a month.

\- Deal. – Flo nodded without hesitation. However pure his emotions were for Sophie, he could never resist being free of math for a full month. He handed the carefully guarded sheet music to Mahtab and hugged her tight. – Perform it by heart, will you…?

\- You won't be disappointed, brother. – Mahtab slapped his back playfully.

At that evening, Mahtab and Julie met again, and she performed Florian's love song for Julie, kneeling in front of her. Her voice was in the boy soprano range, giving all her emotions into singing. The young girl got touched and at the end of the song, she leaned close to Mahtab and gently and lovingly kissed her on the cheeks.

Mahtab was as happy and in love as she nearly was flying two feet from ground when she arrived home after that evening spent together. The kiss and the innocent love talking made her happy and she could not describe how love made feel her.

This feeling had continued for two more weeks. Peaceful and happy walking on the shore, singing for Julie, and innocent hugs, and sweet kisses on the forehead and cheek on both sides. They were like two doves together, and no one, not even Julie knew that Mahtab wasn't a boy. She did not have the idea she should have told it to Julie.

After these sweet two weeks however, Julie started to act strange. She was sad and mostly did not pay attention, yet she looked like she was about to tell something. But she did not. She just left the dates earlier and earlier, saying she was tired. Mahtab tried to ask what was wrong, but she never told.

Mahtab started to get suspicious, and wanted to make sure Julie was all right. Once, yet she knew it was not the best act to do, she was following Julie from a distance, and was trying to find out what caused the poor girl to be so sad. And suddenly, as a cold shower, it hit Mahtab. Just as she was struck by a thunder, she gasped, upon seeing Julie meeting a boy, and kissing him passionately on the lips. She was unfaithful… she betrayed her! After those sweet weeks together! She gave her love to Julie. She was the first person who made her heart beat in that special rhythm. And now it was all gone. She loved another boy, and she cheated. As fast as she could, Mahtab ran home and stormed into the house, sobbing. The Daroga asked what had happened, but Mahtab was too worked up to answer, and against her intentions and manners, she just ran upstairs to the attic and slammed the door behind herself. She collapsed onto the bed, crying so hard she thought she will suffocate.

After a time Erik appeared in the room with a plate of food. As Mahtab lifted her head up, she saw it was already dark. She was crying here all day it seemed. As she saw Erik walking close to her, she sat up and dried her eyes.

\- Why did you come up here, Papa…? Your legs hurt. – She worried.

\- Mama sent your meal up here. With me. – Erik explained. – May I sit down?

\- Yes. But I am not hungry.

\- What has happened, son? – Erik asked with compassion.

\- Julie… betrayed me. – She swallowed back her tears. – I saw her kissing passionately with a boy I have never seen…

\- Oh. – Erik shook his head. – I know what you feel. – He sighed, then patted Mahtab's shoulder. – But… may I tell you something?

\- Sure. – Mahtab nodded, while wiping her tears with her handkerchief.

\- Love, you see, is hard. – Erik started. – It is beautiful and painful at the very same time, sometimes you find the true girl, the One, for the first try, but it is much more common you have to face a lot of hurtful disappointments until you get married to the woman of your dreams. Infatuations in a young age, you see, are like candlelight. A sparkle, which causes the flame to get alive and burn for some hours, being not only warm, but unbearably hot, Mahtab. It does not make your soul warm, but it burns with passion, and it disappears just as fast as it appeared. Do you know, my child, what happens to a candle after a few hours? It melts. Dies. These quick loves won't last for a lifetime. What you are searching to live happily, is the glowing coal. It can give a sparkle anytime and has passion buried inside, but mostly all it does is just keeping your soul and the relationship warm, not letting it cool off. Yet it dies very slowly and can be revived if you bother to work with it a bit. That is love, Mahtab.

The girl looked at her father with growing interest and at the end of his speech, she sat up with a knowing smile.

\- You… you are right, Papa. You can always make me feel better. Thank you.

\- Oh. It is nothing. A young man can always use some advice from the older people. I have experienced what you feel and know how lousy it makes you feel. But if you accept another advice: give your heart to someone who deserves it rather than someone so unworthy of your affection. And be happy you found out in time who she really is.

\- Oh Papa… you are the best Papa ever. – Mahtab hugged Erik tight, then said. – And leave my dinner here… I am hungry.

With a relieved sigh, Erik left his poor unhappy but recovering child to eat in peace, and the solitude she needed.

Mahtab was finally calmed down to sleep at night with everyone else, and they were peacefully sleeping with the others, when there was a loud knock on the door at nearly eleven o clock.

\- Who the Hell might that be? – Erik startled up from his book and went to answer the door.

A man was standing there. He was quite tall, but shorter than Erik, yet he was fat. He wore only a waistcoat, pants and a white shirt. He had a potato head with same kind of nose and angry eyes. His mustache was like a catfish's. Without saying hello, he pointed at Erik.

\- I want to talk to your son.

\- At first I bid you a good evening. – Erik retorted. – Secondly, my children are already asleep at this hour.

\- I don't care. Wake him up. – The other man demanded.

\- Who the Hell are you?

\- Maurice Gautier. Julie's father. I have to talk to your son!

Oh the cute little Julie! Yet Erik knew Mahtab was already in bed, but he did not want this guy to cause a scandal so he found it wiser to wake Mahtab up and clear up the issues this man wanted to talk about. Erik woke Mahtab up and asked her to put her face on, as they had a visitor.

When Mahtab arrived downstairs, looking normal, but sleepy, Erik gestured the man and Mahtab to go out in the kitchen. There was no need for the others to know what they were talking about.

\- So, now, here is my son. – Erik stated. – What is that matter which could not wait until morning?

\- I wish you to marry my daughter as soon as possible. – The man told Mahtab angrily.

\- Why? – She asked with a sudden shock. – I don't want to marry her.

\- You have to, after what you did to her! – Maurice growled.

\- What did I do? – Mahtab gasped.

\- Don't play the little innocent thing! My daughter is pregnant!

Mahtab gasped again. God. Really, kissing causes women to get pregnant as Sophie told her? But they were not kissing in bed!

\- If she is pregnant, Monsieur, then I suggest you to search the possible father elsewhere. – Erik's deep voice thundered behind Mahtab's back.

\- Your son was courting her! – The man attacked. – He was the one who took her honor!

\- I bet, good Monsieur that your daughter stopped being a virgin years ago!

\- Take it back. – He fumed.

\- Mahtab! Tell him you did nothing.

\- I kissed her… - She sobbed.

\- Kissed? You did something else as well, I bet! You raped her!

\- Who told you this? – Erik grabbed the man by the collar.

\- My daughter.

\- Then she is not only a whore, but also a liar! – Erik spat out. – And my child certainly did not do it to her!

\- Of course, every father thinks their son would not do such a thing!

\- It is not about that! – Erik said, a bit of quieter. – Mahtab is… unable to do it.

\- Unable? Why? – Maurice groaned suspiciously.

\- Because Mahtab is a girl. – Erik sighed brokenly.

He knew well that Mahtab felt as a boy, and like this, he betrayed his daughter's feelings as he gave away her deepest secret, but it was still better than letting Mahtab's name gotten into a scandal about rape and an illegitimate childbirth.

\- Is that true…? – Maurice snorted. – Are you… a girl?

\- I was born as a girl by nature. – Mahtab replied softly.

\- Are you courting my daughter as a girl?

\- Not anymore.

\- It is your luck, you little disgusting twisted…

Erik slammed the man against the kitchen's stone wall, and squeezed his throat, and hissed.

\- If you dare to insult my child by one more word, your grandchild will never see its Grandfather!

He released the man after some silence, and Maurice felt it a better idea if he just leaves the house without a word. He hurried outside, still massaging his throat, coughing from Erik's iron grip of those skeletal hands, and running as fast as he could, home, ashamed of his daughter's shameful acts. He always knew that girl inherited her mother's sinful soul and urges… and now that caused that shame and misfortune for her! The little liar viper!

Mahtab stood in the kitchen, frozen up in her place. The man's voice echoed in her ears. She was yet again called 'disgusting', but this time it wasn't her looks that indicated the cusswords. She was outcast because of her looks as a boy and a girl, and she was now an outcast because of being a boy in a girl's body. She just realized it was a sinful act to kiss a girl as a girl, no matter how she felt about her gender. She was disgusting no matter what. She walked closer to Erik, and hugged her father without a word, desperately needing for comfort. Erik stroke Mahtab's hair and softly hummed a song for her, unintentionally to calm the crying child.

What a huge slap is it from life? Oh poor poor unhappy Mahtab…


	62. Chapter 62

Mahtab was given a dosage of laudanum later that night so she was at least able to sleep. Erik sat on the edge of her bed, worriedly examining the teen, if she was bothered by nightmares and would be in need of help and comfort. Christine was nervously cracking her fingers in the doorway. Thankfully the other children did not wake up to the scandal. God, what to do now?

\- What a scandal… what a scandal… - She whispered as walking back and forth in the hall in front of the room where the oldest child was exhaustedly sleeping a thankfully, dream and mindless sleep. – Getting her name in such a scenario..

Christine suddenly walked inside and leaned closer to Erik, who silently stroke Mahtab's hand.

\- Look what have you done. – She hissed.

\- Me? – Erik gasped in dismay.

\- Who else? Who allowed her to court a girl like she was a boy? Who encouraged her to this disgusting act?

\- Stop calling my child that. – Erik groaned. – As you will receive the exact pair of that slap. I never hit you in my life, Christine, but I swear I will if you are cruel to Mahtab.

The young girl turned her head to the side and Erik was afraid the starting fight was going to wake her, so he just caught his wife's hand and led her outside of the room.

\- Here, if you must, torture me now. – He moaned.

\- Erik, I know you meant well. – Christine sighed. – But you simply can't let Mahtab to get into such scenarios. What shall happen to her reputation?

\- You fear the reputation of a child which is actually nonexistent or disguised for the majority of other people? Wake up, Christine! At Florian's school, they think Flo is our oldest. We literally had to keep Mahtab's existence as a secret if we wished to save him from traumas like these to happen way earlier.

\- But… now you even address her as "him"..?

\- It is his wish. I grant it.

\- And what if she wants to change her name?

\- We were already talking about this with hi. He says he likes the name Mahtab, and as people don't know if it is a male or a female name, he is fine with using it. It is a rare name, really. And he said he was happy about me naming him after a person I loved very much.

\- And so she says she was really… a boy?

\- Does it take you really so much time to accept? Yes, he is. And please refer to him with his correct pronouns. I would hate to be called as "she" as well. Please respect his will. You have 3 sons and a daughter.

\- But we can't pretend she is a boy when she clearly isn't. We should rather help her accept and acknowledge she is a girl, so that she can live her life properly.

\- Gender, Christine, is not about what you have between your legs. It is about how you feel. Mahtab has something miscoded in his brain, but he is like this. You can't change that, just as you can't change his face. And what do you mean by "properly"? Walking around in dresses he will hate forever? With that face, waiting for a man to marry "her"? I think, without hurting him, my dear that it most likely will never happen.

\- Oh! You as well have a family, if you failed to notice! – Christine snorted.

\- Thank you for informing me, Christine, that a monster was able to start a family at the age of 49, after a life of rejection. You make me absolutely happy by reminding me that despite of Erik having a face like a corpse, you STILL made the act of absolute self- sacrifice to connect your life with Erik and give birth to his children!

\- Erik, stop it, I did not mean it that way, and you KNOW it! Stop getting out of this conversation like you get insulted over something I did not say…

\- You merely indicated it, yes. You were so self – sacrificing to accept me despite of my face and Mahtab's, and you would even be soooo understanding to accept the face of…

Erik suddenly stopped. He nearly spat it out in his sudden rage. But Christine got suspicious.

\- The face of WHO, Erik? – Christine asked softly.

\- The Devil. – Erik groaned.

\- No, you weren't going to say that originally. – She stated. – Erik you have some kind of secret. – Christine went on.

\- What sort of secret? – Erik was desperately trying to look as cold as possible, and denying it until his very last breath.

\- I overheard a sentence. – She continued stubbornly. – The other night, Mohammed told you something interesting. He stated you were so kind and patient towards Belle – despite…. And that was where you rather harshly silenced him. Despite what, Erik?

\- Despite of me already being so old compared to such a young child. – Erik retorted.

\- No. You would not silence him for that. You did not wish him to tell something. Something you keep as a secret since the day of her birth. Or it wasn't even HER Birthday, Erik?

\- You talk nonsense tonight, woman. I suggest you to go to bed and try to clear your head out. This night made everyone upset here. Mahtab, you, me… I wish to end this conversation right here, as I fear we would insult each other if we continue.

Erik turned around to leave the hallway and go down to the living room to relax, but Christine followed him. The Daroga was sitting by the fire, looking at the flames. He was still under the effect of the scandal and Mahtab's crying earlier, so he did not even notice the couple behind him first.

\- Oh, Christine, leave me the Hell alone!

Erik's annoyed voice hit the Persian's ear suddenly and he turned around to see what was going on. He did not have to think a lot as Christine headed him the next moment, and leaned down, close to him, being desperate for an answer.

\- Mohammed, please, I beg you to tell me the truth. – She pleaded. – Did I give birth to a boy or a girl that day? You were with Erik the whole time…

\- Christine, stop. – Erik started to get angry.

\- The child I gave birth to was a boy. I know it was! – She grabbed the Daroga's shoulder. – Tell me!

\- It was. – He nodded. There was no need to deny it any more. It was a secret for two years. Christine has the right to know it.

\- Daroga!- Erik yelled.

\- Shut your face, the kids will wake up. – Christine turned to face Erik. – Use your mouth finally for something useful. For example telling the truth, if you actually know what it means.

\- It… it wasn't… it wasn't a matter of choice. – Erik stuttered.

\- Then what it was? – Christine demanded a reply.

\- Oh Christine… let's just… forget it… please…

\- Erik. – Christine walked closer to him and put her hands on his shoulder, She gripped it firmly and looked him in the eye. – Erik I NEED to know. Please. – Her voice changed to pleading. – If there is a secret, I need to know.

\- Do you promise… you will love… Belle the same… after hearing…? – Erik whispered brokenly.

\- It won't change my feelings for the child I am raising as my own for two years. – Christine lowered her head. – As it is the case, right? She is not my real child.

\- No. – Erik shook his head. The Daroga nodded at him from the chair.

Erik slowly and with huge pauses, told Christine the story of that horrible and sad day, he told about Beau and his features, and the fact that the doctor wasn't able to save him. He lived for two hours only, and he was simply too weak to fight.

\- How did he die…? – Christine sniffed.

\- In my arms… in peace. – Erik whispered. – I sang… sang for him.

\- Where is he…?

\- I buried him… in a forest near Paris. That is where I… found Belle.

\- So she was abandoned? Did you not steal her from her family?

\- Erik did many bad things, but not that. She was… in the good place at the good time…

\- Oh Erik… - She cried.

\- I am sorry. I did not dare to tell you. You were in a horrible state after giving birth… the doctor said… any kind of stress might … KILL you Christine. Erik simply could not bear the thought of losing his son and his wife at the very same day. – He went down on his knees in front of her, and hugged her legs desperately sobbing.

\- Erik did you mean to… save me? You did it for me? – Christine stroke Erik's shaking back.

\- Ye… ye… - He wasn't able to speak, so he finally just nodded.

\- You did not do the… most perfect thing… but I am happy I learned about it. And I would like to ask or something Erik. Will you do me a favor?

Erik again was only able to nod as tears were running down his deformed cheek.

\- Promise me you lead me to Beau's grave once we return to Paris. – The mother asked brokenly. – I wish to say Good bye to my son and sing a lullaby for him after so much time.

Erik nodded again, as Christine patted his back.

\- I am not angry, Erik, and won't dislike Belle for it. You meant well and Belle is a very kind girl. I love her and she has a loving family. She, and the kids shall not even get to know about.., this episode.

Erik was partly relieved that Christine took the news so well, but stress did not do any good for him. He had gone through so much things that day. Mahtab's disappointment in love, then the nasty affair with Julie's father, and the misunderstanding about Mahtab's gender, and now the truth about Beau and Belle… it was simply too much for even a week, let alone a single day.

\- Erik, are you all right? – Christine asked with worry suddenly.

The Daroga stood up from his chair as well and concernedly, he rushed to Erik's side to check on him. The man did not react to any of the questions, his face turned bluish pale, his eyes got fixed at a point above Christine's head and he wasn't able to stand up or move. He felt he was going to be sick at any second, so he tried to crawl on his hands and knees a few meters away, but he was shaking too hard. Christine tried to help him up and lead him to bed – and that is where she made the mistake.

\- Christine, I think it is not a good idea to take him upstairs. – The Daroga warned…

But it was already too late.

They took a few steps together, Erik hardly could sense anything around him, just walking out of obeying the force which pulled him, when Erik cried out in pain and all his muscles stiffened, causing him to fall back, no matter how Christine tried to catch him. She was only able to grab his hand, and the forced pull caused Erik's right wrist to get dislocated. Christine gasped in shock when she was her husband slipping down the stairs, head facing the ground. The Daroga saved him from possibly cracking his neck as he caught him before landing. Quickly he pulled him to a safer place just in time before the convulsions of a "grand mal" started. Erik hit his head against the wood floor several times before Christine could put a pillow under his head finally. They were watching as the stress triggered seizure lasted, and Christine felt horrible when she noticed Erik bit his tongue. Oh God, he gets so much injured. Why do you make him suffer so much, my Lord…?

As the spasms stopped, Christine knelt down next to him, stroking his hair, and wiping blood off of his lips. She knew that Erik won't come to his mind for at least half an hour, and he shall be left alone until he regains consciousness and he will have a headache for a long time after… she felt horrible. She nearly killed him. If they went upper, Erik would have slid down from the top of the stairs… and the seizure… it happened because Erik can't take so much stress for a day any more. Especially not after a life he had. She should have left him alone and just not say anything else that night. Oh, poor poor Erik!

\- Erik, I am sorry. – She whimpered while caressing his face.

Erik, surprisingly soon compared to usual, opened his eyes which reflected some common sense. He wasn't able to speak yet, but he, with much effort, moved his left hand to touch Christine's hand and with his eyes, he tried to say "I love you."

\- I love you too. – Christine whispered, understanding Erik's thoughts.

The poor man, as he was still feeling lousy, just turned his head to the side with a deep sigh of relief, and slowly bowed to unconsciousness again, as always after a grand mal.


	63. Chapter 63

That next day was horrible for nearly all the family.

Erik was feeling under the weather, he had a terrible headache after the seizure and he mostly had to keep his eyes shut, as lights were bothering him. His dislocated wrist, which he eventually relocated for himself, was hurting him, and his bitten tongue was sore as well. Christine had to close the drapes to make Erik be at least able to open his eyes without pain, but the poor man slept for most of the day. He lay on a bed, worn out, in pain and in no mood to do anything. The Daroga tried to comfort him with some encouraging words, just as Erik tried before to support him in his devastated mind about not being able to move his hand, but Erik wasn't in the mood to be cheered up. He just growled at the Persian to leave the room, in a quite obscene manner, and as the Daroga did not wish to upset the poor man any more, he obeyed.

The children were asked to play and go around as softly as possible, not to bother Papa as he wasn't feeling well that day. The older kids were mostly more or less used to these days, as Erik's health decreased, so they did not fuss too much. They knew that Erik will rejoin the family as he feels better, and until that, they were trying to be understanding and not making trouble.

Belle, as the youngest yet, did not really get the hang of being sick and needing peace and quiet though. She walked to the bed and saw Papa was sleeping so late, so she just wished to wake him up. She climbed next to him and curiously placed her small hands against Erik's chest. She climbed on his stomach and sat on him, and reached out to catch his face. Erik opened his eyes with a moan, but he could not bear himself to send the child away or talk harshly to her as he would most likely did to anyone else.

\- Hi Pa! – She clapped as she noticed Erik's open eyes.

\- Belle. – He just petted the girl's red hair, and hoped she won't make too much noise to make his head pound.

\- Love you Pa. – She smiled and clapped again.

\- Love you too. – He smiled, as these words were so dear to his ears, still, said by anyone.

He slowly closed his eyes again, and he was surprised he did not notice anything of Belle's presence any more. He fell asleep again. His tortured and tired body was fleeing from pain, and having to think too much.

The penitent wife was worrying about her husband, and she swore in her mind many times that she will never ever upset Erik that much anymore. As she noticed Belle was sitting on Erik's chest and constantly babbling to him, she gently picked the girl up and carried her down to the Persian and asked him if he could babysit her for a small time, as she was with Erik. She knew that the poor man needed a rest and she did not wish to bother him and make him suffer more, but she simply had to talk to him. She slowly approached the bed again and knelt down next to it. She took Erik's thin hand and gently massaged his fingers.

\- Erik… - She called out softly. – You… here with me? – Christine was worried, as Erik had slept the whole day, and did not seem to be better.

\- Yes. – Erik replied faintly. – What is the matter…? My head is killing me. Please… no more bad news.

\- No bad news dear. Only good news from now. – She lifted the cold skeletal hand up and kissed it. – I love you and I am sorry for upsetting you so much…

\- It wasn't you… not only you. This day was a nightmare.

\- Erik, I won't be harsh on you… I know I want the best for… him.

This was the first time Christine used "him" when she was thinking of Mahtab. Erik gave a weak smile and nodded in agreement.

\- Thank you. – He said. – I knew you will… understand.

\- I do. And I will support him with anything. Whatever it is he wants, if it makes him happy, only that matters.

\- Life is too short to live it in anxiety. I know so. – Erik sighed.

Christine agreed about this, and decided not to worry about things that much anymore. The family lived through worse as well, and they will get through this trouble just fine. The only thing that matters is that Erik will feel better… that he would survive…

She did not bother Mahtab about the happening – she decided she will leave the child alone and if he wanted to talk, he will ask anyway. She just nonverbally showed him support by stroking his golden hair and looking in those differently colored eyes with a mother's love, and smiled at him.

Mahtab, though did not speak about the issues to Christine, and was a bit quieter than usual, seemed to be all right. He was too calm, compared to the sobbing he did the night before. Christine was worried that he will cry for weeks to come, but it had no trace at all. He even smiled sometimes, especially when he picked up Belle on his lap to play with her. Christine found it stange that such a trauma can fade away in a few hours, but maybe Mahtab simply did not want to think of what happened. She did not blame the young and confused teen. Maybe he was yet too tired to sort out his feelings, and seemingly, he just wanted to be young and free of trouble- a child. Everyone has their own way of dealing with stress. Some cry, and some just try to hide it – Mahtab started to take after Erik, who sobbed and yelled at first, but later he acted cold and talked in one word sentences. Mahtab at least wasn't sad, or wore a mask that showed he was happy… he refused to think of Julie and the issues that were bothering and confusing him.

In the evening Erik joined the family at the dining table. He ate nothing that day yet, and he started to feel hunger. Christine was relieved that her husband wanted to eat finally, and hoped he felt better. Erik looked fairly well, he wasn't that much tired and was able to smile at the kids as he noticed they were all there. Belle ran to him and climbed on his lap, just as Mahtab did when she was so small.

\- Pa here. – She smiled happily.

\- Yes, Papa is here. – Erik smiled and stroke her hair.

\- Pa play hoosey! - She asked.

\- All right, but after that you eat your dinner nicely, will you?

As the child nodded, Erik slowly and carefully started to play horse ride with her on his knee, Christine could not help, but laugh at the old man and that cute young girl playing together.

Strange thing that knowing the truth about Belle did not change her thoughts and love for her. Deep in her heart, she knew the truth already, since the very first day. For two years, Erik was trying to keep a secret, but she understood why he did it. And what would have happened to this sweet little girl if she wasn't found by Erik that night? What kind of parents could abandon such a nice little thing, literally hours after her birth? What did she do to deserve this treatment? It was horrible to think about how many children suffered the same, and even worse fate as she did, and Christine could not find an excuse that could absolve this act. Poverty? No. Papa Daaé was poor, for sure, there were times when he did not eat… because they did not have enough for two. But on those days he rather gave the last slice of bread and cheese to Christine, claiming he wasn't hungry that day, or saying it was lent for all fathers on Earth that day, so only the children were allowed to eat. She knew it wasn't true now. Papa only wanted her to eat rather than him, and she was sure Papa would never abandon her like that, no matter what, and she despised Belle's parents in her heart and mind, for this unforgivable sin. She was determined to raise the child in so much love and wealth that she will never know the sentence "we don't have any more left, dear… sorry."

After dinner,when Papa was well enough to get up and walk around, Mahtab decided to open up his heart and walked to the old man and sat beside him on the couch. Erik did not ask anything either, as he did not know what his child wanted: to talk or just to sit in silence, just like him when he was under the weather. Mahtab was looking at him for a time, but after a man to a man conversation started between them.

\- How are you? – The child inquired.

\- Better. – Erik replied.

\- I am glad. Why did you have the seizure…?

\- Nothing. You know it happens.

\- The doctor said it is triggered by stress. – Mahtab went on. – Were you stressed because of me?

\- Partly. – Erik admitted. – But I am not angry with you. Rather with the man who humiliated you the way he did.

\- When you told my life will be hard… did you mean this?

\- Yes. – Erik nodded.

\- Well, Papa, I will be strong. I am not a coward girl who runs. I used to be, when they attacked me at school. Now I am not. I am a brave man.

\- What do you want to do? – Erik looked at the teen with worry. – Do you wish to take a revenge? A duel…?

\- No. – Mahtab shook his head. – I had horrible thoughts at first. I really directed a cliché opera in my mind. I was fantasizing about duel, simply walking there and shooting Julie in the heart, in that cold heart, but… what would be the use of it? I also thought about it would have been better if I just let her drown in the water… but these horrible thoughts are just woken by my jealousy and hurt. She still deserves life, and happiness. If not with me, then with someone else. I only feel that I am an evil person for these thoughts, Papa… Am I…?

\- Thoughts like these poison your life, indeed. But you are not a bad person for this. I had thoughts like this as well when my heart was broken. And you, my child, are cleverer than your father.

\- Why do you say that? – Mahtab gasped with surprise.

\- It took Papa nearly fifty years to learn the same lesson you just worded. I admire you for it. And I respect you.

\- Thank you. – Mahtab let out a relieved sigh.

\- It is kind of normal to think like this, until they only remain thoughts. – Erik sighed.

How much better person is her child, who, just as a 15 year old, feels already that this is not the right path to follow? When he was in her age, he way yet through the first murder, and he still did not regret it, looking back. He was now ashamed of his older actions in the past. But he only felt shame, and was afraid his children would learn about his murders and would loathe him for them. Shame and fear were the feelings he felt – but still not regret. He did not pity the people he killed. They deserved what they got, and what scared him the most was that he considered the same things as Mahtab did, but he wasn't restrained by conscience, as the child- he was simply not feeling physically well enough to go there and kill the asshole. But if he was, he would have done it for his child, with such a brutality that it scared him. Back in the old routine? After so many years without killing, he thought he was able to go on without the thought of murdering someone, but the truth was that his weakness that day wasn't only because of the aftermath of the epileptic seizure. He was hallucinating about killing that man in numerous possible ways, starting with the simple strangling, followed by many kinds of defacements, he actually wanted to cut off that man's nose in the first place, so that he will know what is it like to leave without one… oh, he got so disgusting thoughts he just needed to shut them out. When Belle climbed on his chest, he was happy to see a cute innocent child instead of those horrid thoughts…

He would have died if Mahtab found out about those mental images he had.

To concentrate on something else, and because Mahtab seemed to be clueless still, that evening contained a serious talk about differences between a man and a woman, and yet Mahtab preferred to be a boy, Erik finally explained him that he lacked a body part which was indeed crucial to the process of fathering a child, and babies were not made by a kiss, however heartfelt and passionate that kiss may be. No matter if they kiss in bed or somewhere else, more things are required to have kids- which is impossible for Mahtab because of the fact he lacked that body part.

\- So I can't have a child anyway? – Mahtab asked.

\- Well… unless you accept the… other way that you will be the one who gives birth.

\- I would rather die. – Mahtab made a face. – It must be painful as Hell. And… Mama nearly… died… last time.

\- How do you know this? – Erik gasped in surprise.

\- I do. – Mahtab sighed. – I overheard a talk between the doctor and Tonton Mohammed once. And I read Oliver Twist… you know. Since I read that book I knew it was possible for woman to die of childbirth. I don't wish to die and leave a baby alone for a life. I don't want to give birth to an Oliver that will be loathed and neglected by everyone.

\- Oh, child, it is not sure you would. – Erik patted Mahtab's head, and stroke his hair. – And you are so young yet… future brings what it brings. But you know… there is always the option to adopt an orphan. Either as a man or a woman.

\- Papa, you told me you were lonely for a long time before you met Mama.

\- True. – Erik nodded.

\- And why did you not adopt a baby if you were so lonely? – He inquired.

\- Well… let's just say I did not value children the way I do now. – Erik chose to be honest that night with his oldest, he knew Mahtab was mature enough now to understand. – I only saw the negative side before… the work with them… the crying… the mess… and I did not think I was capable of raising a small thing. And to be honest, I did not know if the child would be afraid of me or not.

\- I know what you mean. – Mahtab put his hand on his father's shoulder. – I know, believe me.

The summer vacation for the family ended sooner than they imagined. Not only because Erik and Mahtab got enough of Perros, but the weather was turning rather gloomy and rainy for days to come, and the children were stuck in the house, which resulted in they were constantly running around restlessly, or fighting due to the fact so many people were in a smaller house than they were used to, so they constantly had to make compromises, but being together wasn't so easy, especially with Noel. Erik decided it was enough, and they returned to Paris.

Seemingly, Paris did not hear about the awful rains in Perros, because when they arrived back home, the sun was shining brightly, allowing the boys to go outside to play and release their energies finally. As Christine put her suitcase on the bed, she turned to Erik and looked at him with a look on her face which was hurtful to watch.

\- Erik… you know what you promised. – She whispered sadly.

\- Christine… - Erik sighed half worriedly, half irritated. – We hardly even arrived home. Tomorrow…

\- No, Erik. Today. – Christine swallowed back some tears. – We were already waiting two years with it.

\- Christine, we are just through a long journey… dear, you should rest…

\- I can, after I said good bye to my son. – She demanded. – Until I have no peace in my heart, and you know it. I want to go to visit his grave right NOW.

\- All right, just give me some time… - Erik shook his head in dismay.

\- Erik, the sooner the better.

\- All right, I understood Christine. – Erik growled. – Can it wait two more minutes perhaps, so I am allowed to go to the bathroom? – He added with annoyance.

\- Oh… if that is the case…- She murmured in front of herself in embarrassment. True, she was so occupied by the thought of visiting her son's grave that she did not think of anything else. Not even her body, let alone his.

When Erik appeared again, and he reached out for her hand, she followed Erik as she was a zombie. She could not think of anything else, but the baby she never met, and never knew. She still loved him with all her heart, only as a mother could love. She again thought of Erik's mother, and had to cry even harder as she noticed the fact, yet again, that Erik, because of his face, wasn't accepted and loved by his mother. She was able to love Mahtab, and her heart ached for Beau. Oh, just to hold him in her arms for some moments, before he passed away… just as Erik did… and sing a lullaby to him… what kind of a mother disregards having a child…?

As they arrived to the spot where Erik placed a nicely carved wooden cross to mark the grave and even carved the heartbreaking few lines on it:

" _Beau Spöke_

 _Given and taken by God on 14_ _th_ _June, 1898._

 _A part of our heart lays here with him._

 _R.i.p._ "

As Christine read the text, she was so heartbroken that she had to hug Erik with her full force, not to faint. She was sobbing as she was tightly holding her husband, who was stroking her back comfortingly and with support, but he was shaking with crying as well. When Christine composed herself enough, she knelt down to the grave, she softly caressed the ground, and started humming a cradle song for the baby laying there. Erik placed his death's hand on Christine's shoulder as he leaned closer to the grave as well. He was humming the same song as well, with shaky breath, and Christine, yet she felt her heart was about to break, she was thankful that Erik was sharing in her grief. After the song ended, both of the mourning parents wished good night to their son, and walked home arm in arm, still crying.

As they arrived home, they were calm enough to face the happily running children. They were surprised to notice that Florian was jumping around, screaming in happiness like he had lost his mind. The Daroga was trying to hush him a bit as he noticed Erik and Christine weren't in the best mood, but the boy was so overly excited that he did not listen.

\- Papa, Papa, this is the happiest day of my life truly! – He hugged Erik with passion.

\- What has gotten into you? – Erik gasped with surprise. Florian was never this excited before. With his shy attitude, he rather quietly grinned at something good happening. This euphoria was yet unknown to the parents.

\- My music… - He started stuttering. – My music…

\- Erik, you received a letter while we were away. – The Daroga helped him out as he noticed the boy was too excited to speak.

\- And you opened it? – Erik growled.

\- It was entitled as urgent. Sorry, but I wanted to see it was nothing seriously wrong.

\- And is it? – Christine inquired.

\- It is a good news. Florian's symphony was accepted and published in England. They also asked him to attend a meeting in person in London. They wish to put the symphony in concert.

\- Do you hear that? – Flo hugged Erik harder. – Do you, Papa?

\- I might be old, but not deaf. – Erik scolded playfully. – So you wish to go to London, eh?

\- I do… I do Papa… may I? – Flo asked with hope.

\- It would certainly be a huge jump in his career. – Erik was thinking out loud. – Only one problem is he can't go all alone, an adult should accompany him at least.

\- I will. – Christine said.

\- You? – Erik pointed at his wife. – An adolescent and a woman? Even the idea is nonsense. – Erik gasped.

\- Erik… I hope you know I have travelled alone before.

\- A woman going to another country with a child is more than laughable. And dangerous. Besides, it is not only about your gender, but forgive me, love, but you know nothing about business. The boy needs a manager who talks to publishers, talks with the orchestra if they don't simply accept a preteen's orders, and that is, Christine, something you know nothing of. It is a man's job. You need at least a man to accompany you… and with that effort it will be simpler if it is only Florian and me who go.

\- You know well that your health is…

\- My health is just fine, I can take care of myself. And I am not climbing into a coffin just because you decided. I am capable of going to England.

\- And what if you die abroad? – The Daroga asked. – You remember what happened in Perros. Do you wish to leave your son alone in a foreign country out of pride?

\- Thank you, but I did not ask for your opinion.

\- Yet he is right. Either you take him or none of you go. – Christine placed her hand on her hip.

\- All right, all right. – He sighed. – The Daroga comes too.

\- Papa… may I go too? – Mahtab's forced tenor could be heard from the corner. – Please.

\- No, Mahtab, it is only Flo, the Daroga and me.

\- Why not me too? – Mahtab asked.

\- Because shall I take you and all the others will be lawfully demanding to come as well.

\- Why can't all of us go? – Mahtab went on.

\- Because Belle is too young for such a journey yet. – Christine explained. – And she can't stay home alone. I have to stay home with her and I would be happy if you stayed as well, to help me.

\- But… it is London… - Mahtab sighed dreamily, forgetting about his voice, which suddenly slipped back in the mezzosoprano range.

\- Mahtab, I need help with your siblings and the house… - Christine tried to reason why it was a bad idea to go to London… she would be happier if Mahtab wasn't seen in another country. Not because of her face, as it was now successfully covered by a human mask similar to Erik's, and that disguise was working for both of them… but she was scared Mahtab will have similar bad experiences as in Perros.

\- It would be a huge opportunity. – Mahtab said. – And I will finally have a reason to speak English.

The gears in Erik's brain were in a constant work, he wasn't talking for a time. He tried to search for the best solution. True, Mahtab can't be locked away from people in all his life. He needed more experiences, and Flo and Mahtab were very close to each other. It maybe will be better if Florian isn't the only child in the group. Besides… both Mahtab and him will miss each other dearly. He did not openly admit it, but Mahtab was still his favorite child, and he was simply unable to leave the teen here for a bunch of time. It may take long months with the rehearsals and the concert until they can return. Not seeing Mahtab for months was not only painful to imagine because of missing him, but also because Mahtab's recent trauma. He did not know how much time it will require him to get through it, and if he left him here alone, without any emotional support in this matter, he could turn depressed during those months. Maybe a change of the climate will do him some good?

\- Mahtab comes as well. – He stated after a long silence.

\- And me? – Noel jumped up. – Me?

\- You will have much bigger task to do. – Erik leaned closer to the boy who pierced him with his glance. – You will be the man of the house once all the other older men go away.

\- Really? – Noel started thinking.

\- Yes. You have to guard the ladies. Be strong and brave.

Noel started thinking for a second. In all his life, he was the youngest of the boys. He never had a chance to prove he was the man of the house, and such a big responsibility can't be missed. With a huge grin he shook Papa's hand and promised he will be a very productive guardian gentleman for the ladies.

The appointment with the publisher for Flo was booked to the 23rd of September, so they needed to depart a week after the return from Perros if they wanted to arrive in time.

Christine was left at home with only Noel and Belle, and as she watched the other family members leaving, her heart became heavy. She was partly sad about missing Erik, but she was awesome much worried about her husband. What if she only receives a death report from England? She would so love to see her son's symphony performed… she now only had to content herself with Erik's close- mouthed letters. He had nearly unreadable cursive and he wasn't too good at expressing his thoughts in writing so he only wrote the facts mostly.

The first letter came in a few days after the departure and Erik literally closed it in two lines.

 _Calais, 22_ _nd_ _August, 00_

 _Dear Christine,_

 _We are doing well. We are about to cross La Manche. Weather is good. The children are excited. Hope you are doing well, and I send my love to Noel and Belle, and countless kisses to you._

 _Love with all my heart,_

 _Your devoted husband:_

 _Erik A. Spöke._

Yes, all Erik wrote was true, but it was not much, and did not describe the situation they were in at all. The children weren't simply excited. They were in ecstasy, and poor men could not answer all their questions. To make matters worse, yes the weather was good in general, but was quite windy, which caused waves, and they were getting on a ship. That fact was quite enough to make Erik's mood bad.

He did not tolerate travelling by ship even on calm waters, and if they will get in a storm with this wind getting stronger, it will be no good news for him at all. Oh, why, oh why God created seas and why they can't just ride to London on ground?

The 17 hour travelling by the ship was a nightmare for Erik. He was thankful that at least it won't last for days, but his motion sickness still kicked in. Mahtab did not know it was possible to be sick from travelling by ship. He did not have any problem with it, nor Flo, and the Daroga. Erik was the only one from the small group affected by seasickness, but he felt so terrible it was painful to watch. Mahtab tried to take care of his beloved Papa the best he could, hoping they will get to England soon.

Erik was trying to concentrate on something else, but he still vomited a lot, as he could not help himself. That is why he avoided raveling by ship when they were going to Persia with the Daroga. He did not make compromises for his friend, but he did for his child.

A real parent does self-sacrifice for his children. At least it won't last forever.


	64. Chapter 64

Christine felt like she was going to explode from fury.

To start, she did not receive a single letter for nearly two weeks. Not from anyone. Why are there four people walking around in England if ONE of them can't hold a pen and write a letter? What are they doing day by day, the soulless things? They leave her in utter shock and worry, not even writing a single line to her. Can it be they did not get to England…? Maybe they suffered a shipwreck? Maybe bandits attacked them…? Are they robbed and now they have no money to come home, or… maybe they are dead…?

\- Christine, please. – Raoul tried to calm her, as he and Yvette often visited the family to give support for the poor single mother with two young children. – I think the bandits have more to be afraid of Erik…

\- It was true when he was younger… but now… - Christine sobbed.

\- I am sure he is still capable of protecting his loved ones and himself. And don't forget there is Mahtab, who was strong enough to push me even at the age of… five I think. And you told me Erik taught him how to use a gun.

\- I am still worried. – Christine added softly. – As it is a wife and mother's job.

Noel and small Philippe became friends. Yet Noel was five years older than Philippe de Chagny Jr., it did not ruin their friendship. Noel was surprisingly easygoing with the small boy, and acted like a wise older brother to him, just as he saw the pattern from Mahtab. Partly he was happy that he was the only boy in the house mostly, but he had to admit, he missed his father and also his older siblings a lot. Other times he would claim he wanted to be an only child, especially after a bigger fight with Flo, but now that he did not have them, he wished them to be home as soon as possible again. The saying is really true – you don't know what you have until you lose it. He even stopped doing mischief at home, and turned his mind to reading books, or playing with Philippe. At least there was another boy in the house. Belle wasn't a possible options- Noel did not understand girls, and did not get what was so cute about Belle. They constantly wanted to play something else, and the girl only liked stupid games like carrying dolls and stuffed bears to have tea. It was boring. And not much more interesting was when she was just dancing around, imitating the ballerina in the music box. Thankfully Belle had a playmate too – Sophie loved younger children, and she enjoyed to take care of Belle, and even though she could not see her dancing, she was sure that the tiny girl was amazing.

Noel was the one who taught Philippe how to climb on a tree and he started entertaining his "small brother" with card and magic tricks. Of course, Philippe was fascinated by Noel's skills, and he started to believe that other than his father, Noel was the smartest person on Earth. He started to pray for a brother to Mama and Papa – maybe he will finally receive a boy in the family too!

Finally, the first sign of life arrived in another three- liner from the oldest member of the group. At least she was sure they were alive in England, as the letter was dated from already London, which fact meant good. Yet the letter did not tell too much:

 _London, on 9_ _th_ _September, '900_

 _My beloved Christine,_

 _We arrived here. The journey was pleasantly uneventful. Everyone is in good health, including the Persian and myself. Do not worry. I hope you and the children are well. I send my best wishes and love to Noel and Belle and my deep love and endless kisses to you._

 _Your loving and devoted husband,_

 _Erik Amadé Spöke_

Christine was partly relieved that Erik was alive at least, but she wasn't too delighted with the length of the letter. Oh would your wrist break if you took a bit more effort? Erik did not do it intentionally though. He did not like to write anyway, and with his nearly unreadable cursive, he thought no one else liked to read his letters, and it caused just as much trouble for the recipient as for him, so he did not write too much. But even in speech, he did not like to use too much words, if not necessary. He thought he just wrote as much as needed – the plain news. Anyway, what on Earth to write? Nothing has happened, nothing mentionable. He was truly afraid that the journey would be a lot more unpleasant, like in his younger years… he often had to sleep in a stable with the horses, and he suffered through some attacks by bandits, whom he had to… end by himself… but he did not wish to do that right now. Yet if it was needed, he would not have had a second thought. Thankfully it wasn't needed, as since his seasickness, nothing bad had happened, hence he described the journey as "pleasantly uneventful". They did not suffer lack of anything, as Erik was stubbornly not making compromises about luxury during the travel and staying at hotels. He spent a lot more on the journey than he would have in his younger years, but now he simply found himself too old for the circumstances he was used to. He did not wish to resign of comfortable beds, compartments in a train, or water closets. The Daroga was actually thankful for it. He also found it much more comfortable.

Some days later, however, another letter came, which gave Christine much more idea of what her family were going through in a foreign country. It was a nice handwriting, bit of too much like an eminent child's at school, and the letters were perfectly formed, so it was clearly not written by Flo. As she checked the signature, she smiled. It was Mahtab.

 _12_ _th_ _September, 1900, London,_

 _Dearest Mama,_

 _I apologize we did not write too much before. Papa did want to write a lot more for the last time but he had to close the letter earlier to catch the post, as he did not want you to wait more for news. Now I send my more detailed letter to know what is happening._

 _London is a beautiful city, and we enjoyed the journey very much. Nothing bad had happened, save for Papa being seasick on the ship. Now that we arrived, we were mostly getting ready for the happenings which are to come. We were sightseeing some, as Papa told us, if we got to be so lucky to get here, we must see the architectural masterpieces of the city, which we enjoyed very much. We had to take Flo to a tailor shop to make a gala suit for him, as it will be needed for him on his concert. He looked like a gentleman with his tailcoat when he tried it on. He also received new shoes and a conductor's wand. He would like to march around in his new clothes proudly, but Papa does not allow him._

 _Also, I have a job. I work as a translator for Flo, as I know English, while he doesn't. Papa and I try to teach him to express himself, he now knows a few sentences, yet he said he'd rather communicate in music. Papa seemed to agree a lot. Flo has a terrible French accent, while Papa and I don't. About accents and pronunciations: No one can pronounce our last name. We are everything in writing and speech from Spoke to Spiker, but mostly they call us "Spooky". Papa calls himself "the Spooky Erik" and bursts out in laughter. I am a bit of annoyed that English people can't pronounce a Swedish surname properly. And not even my given name as I am mostly "Mateb". I start to go by any name starting by M, really._

 _I have also good news: Flo's publisher took our appointment earlier, hearing that we are in the city. We went there to meet them yesterday, but I got a bit of disappointed upon arriving to their office. I imagined it to be much bigger and luxurious – our study at home is bigger and we have more expensive furniture I think- yet the two gentlemen were kind to us. They talked to Papa mostly, as they were told that the composer himself is still struggling with the language, and he only speaks French. They were kind, but they also looked a bit of suspicious while looking at Florian, and one of them quietly stated he doesn't look twelve years old. They gave him some exercises for improvisation, as I think, they did not believe it was him who wrote the symphony. He had to stay alone in a room with only a piano and some sheet music paper and he got an hour to write a song for S-A-T-B and piano, which he did wonderfully. I read that once Mozart had to go through something similar exam, so I am the proudest big brother on Earth that my brother faced the same challenge as Mozart. I really feel like he is on a concert tour. He received many congratulations, and a term Papa had to sign, as Flo is still a child- now it is sure we are going to have the symphony performed. We have to start the rehearsals tomorrow as the date of the concert is 12_ _th_ _December. I am afraid we are not going to be home until next year's beginning._

 _I am sorry if these news disappoint you – Papa was kind of prepared of it. It takes long to stage a concert, but you also know it well. Don't worry, we are doing well. Papa seems to be totally changed, health way. He had problems climbing stairs in Paris and he is running upstairs like a young man here. I am not sure what caused it. Flo is begging him to play the violin solo in his symphony as he claims he thought of Papa the whole time he wrote it. Papa said it wasn't that simple, and we can't just rearrange a full orchestra for his wishes, but Flo now seems to be determined about his wants._

 _Tonton Mohammed is doing well too, he mostly takes care of our emotional stability which is not an easy job for poor him. He does not really speak English either, so he tries to practice with Florian, yet he says he is too old for this._

 _Well, I close my letter now and promise to write again when there is something new._

 _I send my kisses for Belle and my brotherly love to Noel, and I do hope all of you are doing well. Please tell Sophie I am going to write her in the following days in Braille. Hug M. LeChat instead of me, and greet Tonton Raoul and Tatie Yvette and Philippe in my name. I miss all of you and love you so much. Don't worry about us, we are fine and happy._

 _Your loving oldest child,_

 _Mahtab Geneviéve Spöke_

Christine was relieved to hear more news as she could not imagine how they lived and what happened from Erik's letters. She was excited for her son, and was sad she can't be there for him to cheer for him on his special day. And… half a year would be too much without them… Yes she knew they were going to stay for months… but still it was too much to bear! She missed Erik and the children so much. She felt like half of her heart was ripped out… they won't even come back for Christmas… they never spent Christmas separated… and still, though Erik was better according to Mahtab, Christine was still afraid her husband's health could suddenly turn to the worse, as it had happened before.

In London, Erik got more and more busy.

He did not have much time to write letters anyways, and he had no time to feel pain or be ill. Surprisingly, English weather did not do any harm to his joints. He felt emotionally refreshed, and useful. He suddenly had so much tasks to do! Within time they moved out from the hotel to a flat they rent, as it was cheaper on the long run, and Erik did not really like to live among so many people anyway. The flat was more peaceful, and it also had a grand piano, which Erik needed more than a piece of bread. Mahtab informed Christine about their moving, but she found it strange that they did not receive a letter to the new address. Erik was partly worried about this fact and he wrote a short letter to Christine to ask if she got the other letter with their new address, but he simply had no more time to worry and think about the issue.

He had to accompany Florian to each of the rehearsals and be his manager and translator, and much, his emotional support. The orchestra had trouble suddenly obeying to a child who did not even speak their language and was too much determined and serious compared to a twelve year old. The symphony was hard enough, and they did not like when such a child corrected them. Flo had to face the hard part of being a child prodigy, and that was why Erik always was afraid: he knew Flo wasn't that emotionally stable and manipulative as it would be needed for this job. Yet in a few weeks' time, as Flo spoke better and better in English, and the musicians did not only see a spoiled little alien on the conductor's place, they started to get to like him. Florian was really easy to accept and like if people got to talk to him a bit more, as he truly had a heart of gold, and a lot of passion for music. All of the musicians showed him the instruments they were playing, and he got to try out some of them himself. Erik was so proud that he did not constantly have to protect him, and he found his place finally. It was much easier for Florian to give the violin solo to his father than he thought. The organizers were utterly fascinated by the thought that the concert will be even more miraculous with a violin virtuoso as they heard Erik playing. He simply had to. He did not like the fact he had to play in front of an audience at the age of nearly 70, but he knew it would mean so much to the child… and to tell the truth, it was something he would be very proud of as well. Before ending his life, he wished to perform something heartwarming in front of people, just like in older times when he had his show as a teen and young adult in Russia and Persia… a strange nostalgic feeling took him over when he lifted up his violin on a rehearsal to show the musicians what he was capable of.

He did not worry about the mask any more, which was his main fear. As he started playing, he did not mind any more if his mask got too loose after the performance, but at least ONCE he had to show his art. Florian's touching notes which were demanding all of Erik's technical skills, were making the string section turning lemon yellow with jealousy, and touched at the same time. Half of the orchestra was weeping after the first measures and Erik really knew how to make people feel all kinds of emotions while playing. Whispers started about that thin man, who looked nothing special, was better than Paganini himself.

When the solo ended they needed to interrupt the symphony, as Erik received endless clap and the infamous stamping of the string section as a clapping gesture. There was no audience, but Erik was beaming with pride both for his and his son's achievements. He knew now that Flo will be an excellent composer, he will be able to live on his own from composing and concerts, if he was able to make the orchestra cry, what will he do to the audience…? Erik felt now he could die as a happy man, yet he hoped and thought it was still far away. He felt so full of energy that he thought he was going to live for 100 years. Musicians were cheering for them, and Erik climbed up next to Flo and hugged him in front of everyone.

\- I am proud of you, my dear son. – He stated softly but happily, looking at his child.

\- I am proud of you too, Papa. I learned everything from you. – Flo hugged Erik's neck.

As the rehearsal finished, and they were about to leave, suddenly Erik heard a voice behind his back and he nearly dropped his precious violin.

\- You made me cry with your song again… my Angel of Music.

He turned back, and saw the most precious human being standing behind their back. She was smiling happily, but was wiping her eyes of tears of being touched. Erik's jaw dropped and Flo was happily running towards the woman and leapt into her arms:

\- Mama!


	65. Chapter 65

Erik excitedly hurried closer to the figure he still wasn't sure was real. He had hallucinated before… can it be happening again? But Florian simply can't cling to the air…

\- Chris… Christine…! – He stuttered, reaching out for her, and he was able to feel her smooth golden locks in between his stick like fingers.

\- I am sorry I did not write to you before. – Christine gave him an apologetic little smile. – I was… I was just not well without all of you and when Mahtab wrote you all were not going to be with us on Christmas either… I missed you all too much and wanted to come.

\- I understand, dear… - Erik hugged her after Flo got off of her finally- But… how…? I mean it is too dangerous for you to travel all alone here and…

\- Oh, but I wasn't alone. – Christine smiled. – I was accompanied by more people.

\- Who? – Erik got a bit of suspicious.

\- Don't you want to go home first? – Christine teased. – I bet you need a bit of rest after that glorious solo.

\- You won't believe me, but I feel like I was reborn here. – Erik stated. – I am in great health.

\- Oh, now comes to mind. – Christine poked Erik's shoulder teasingly. – Thank you for all those long letters I could not stop reading them.

\- Erik is sorry, he did not have too much time and you… you know I hate to write… - He apologized, trying his best to search for excuses.

\- I love you just like that. – Christine sighed a bit dreamily and tapped Erik's shoulder lovingly. – You are my husband. Until death do us part.

\- I could not be happier… knowing this. – Erik admitted in tears.

Flo was happy to see his beloved Mama again, and he was touched his parents still loved and adored each other so dearly and deeply, after so many years together. The next year there will be their 20th wedding anniversary, and he could only hope so that he will once find a woman he could once marry and live with her like Papa and Mama does. They seemed to be so happy and in love.

\- I want to have a dozen of kids. – He stated as he told his parents his thoughts going through his mind, later in the cab.

\- Just make sure you are able to feed them. – Erik nodded. – Otherwise I don't mind, you do as you wish. Yet now I would appreciate if you focused rather on your concert and career. Women come later.

\- I am afraid you will have grandchildren sooner than you would like it. – Christine whispered in his ear with a small chuckle.

\- I hope not. – Erik replied shortly.

As they returned to the flat where Erik lived, he was surprised to see Flo nearly lost his mind with happiness as he ran into the main salon. He could not imagine what caused such a bliss as he was just removing his coat in the hall, but soon he could catch a few excited words:

\- Monsieur, you are here!

As he stepped in, he noticed the boy sitting on the floor, hugging the cat.

\- How does the animal get here? – Erik asked with astonishment.

\- I smuggled him here. – a familiar, kind of deeper and mature voice rang in the air, and as Erik turned his head to the side, he noticed the youngest boy sitting on the sofa.

\- Noel! – He gasped from being happy and shocked at the same time.

\- Yes, Papa, I am here. – He grinned and walked to his father's side. – It is hard to admit, but I missed you. All of you.

\- I missed you too, son. – Erik playfully messed up Noel's hair, as he knew well that the boy wasn't too much fond of hugs and kisses mostly. Noel liked to play the role of the macho man who hides his emotions and lives only for science and learning new things. – And who else is here? – Erik looked around.

\- Belle. – Mahtab carried the small girl to Erik, handing her to him for a kiss.

\- Did you travel here with the children and the cat? – Erik turned to Christine.

\- And Raoul. – She admitted. – He was the only grown up man with us. I did not originally want to accept his offer, but he told me he would not have a calm moment, knowing I was alone with the children.

\- A stubborn little girl, really. – Erik sighed. – And now you are here, my love, what do you wish to do?

\- The same as in Paris: taking care of my family and watch my son's first concert.

\- I want to watch it too. – Noel stated.

\- Music. – Belle grinned in Erik's hands. – Dance.

\- Yes, yes dear. – Erik nodded happily, hearing the small child talking happily to him.

\- She wishes to be a ballerina, I think. – Christine smiled.

\- A ballerina? – Erik snorted. – No, I would not think so.

\- Why? – Christine asked with surprise.

\- Because ballerinas are not the best of occupation. She tortures herself to no end from a young age, only to end up as the well- known lover of some twenty years older Count or such, until some nobleman finally marries her.

Christine gasped at that and a long silence followed Erik's reasoning. Oh the ex Ghost knew well he spoke before he thought, yet again. He was too proud to apologize yet, and wished to act like nothing has happened.

\- I am honestly happy he did not have to hear that. – Christine bit her lips, thinking of Raoul, who, to Erik's luck, was staying at a hotel. That nasty remark was clearly about Count Philippe and la Sorelli, and Raoul would surely not leave it as unheard.

\- Why, what is wrong with being lovers? – Flo asked suddenly.

\- Go to your room. – Erik barked at him- And practice.

\- As you wish, Papa. – He walked to the room at the left hand where he slept and his necessities were stored, including his violin.

Thankfully the flat was huge. Erik only accepted the luxurious ones and he was determined to have two separate bedrooms for him and the Daroga, and a room where Flo could live and practice in peace, a salon with a grand piano, a bathroom with hot and cold running water and water closet. It was even bigger what he finally did rent as it met all of his expectations, but they had two extra bedrooms other than the master bedroom with a double bed for well, Erik alone at first, but as Christine moved in, she was happy to occupy the other half. The Daroga had one small room for himself with a single bed, it was nothing much, but he was happy to have it. He would not have wanted to sleep in the same room with Erik either, just as much Erik did not want his presence. Erik accused him of spying on him while he sleeps, but the truth was the poor Persian wasn't able to sleep at all if Erik was around. The past Opera Ghost did snore loud sometimes, and moderately every time, and it happened he was talking or whipering in his sleep. Christine wasn't too much bothered by that, as she was a heavy sleeper, only if Erik had a nightmare, it did wake her up. Originally Erik wanted to put Mahtab and Flo in the same room, but as they had enough rooms, the two boys were in two different rooms. Now that Noel arrived too, he claimed he had no problem with sleeping with Flo, so Mahtab was still alone in his room, and the two younger boys moved in Flo's room. There were two single beds in that room thankfully, one was used to store Flo's suitcase and violin case mostly before, but now it became Noel's bed. The smallest bedroom in the apartment finally became Belle's room. She was happy to have her own room in this new place. The flat was a really comfortable one, so no one could complain.

After all of the people and their necessities were sorted out, getting prepared of living in London for some time, and Erik and Christine stayed alone in the master bedroom, she was thinking if she should demand Erik to apologize for clearly hurting the memory of Count Philippe, which was especially a nasty thing, considering the circumstances of his death. Christine did not know about what exactly happened, which fact bothered her even more. She was sent out of the room when Erik told it to the Daroga and Raoul, and she wasn't sure why. Raoul did blame her for the happenings when they broke up, and Erik sent her out of the room…

\- Erik, I want you to confess me what have you done to Count Philippe. – She stated suddenly.

Erik turned to her with a huge gasp, nearly dropping the glass he held. He shook his head firmly.

\- You just said nasty things about his memory. – She continued. – I want to know what had happened.

\- It wasn't my intent. – Erik murmured. – I just… did not really think of him.

\- It does not matter anymore, you did talk about him. And I demand a reply.

\- That is why you came after me? To nag me? To torture me? To make my life miserable with twenty – year old questions?

\- You kept it in secret for too long.

\- And will carry it to the grave with me. – He retorted.

\- Are you sure? – Christine's tone suddenly changed from an accusing one to a bit more understanding.

\- Yes. – Erik replied brokenly. – And now what shall happen? Can't we just live happily without you jumping on my every remark? Christine, I am so tired of the constant drama.

He dropped down sitting on the side of the bed, waiting for a new little scenario to happen, as always. He sighed, and closed his eyes, in utter apathy. He did not want to imagine what will happen again, after a few minutes. He was in a foreign country, and the troubles followed him there as well. The ground slipped out from under his feet, and he did not even want to plan forward. He was old, helpless and tired. He buried his face in his hands as he placed his elbows on his knees. If he wasn't considering it extremely rude towards Christine, he would have plugged his fingers in his ears, not to hear anything of the coming speech. He only hoped she won't yell too much. His head was already hurting him.

Christine watched her poor old husband in a sudden wave of compassion. Oh what did she want of that poor old man? He was already 68 years old, and that thing happened nearly 20 years ago. He already confessed it to Raoul, who accepted his reasoning, and they became fairly close acquaintances and helped each other whenever they could. If Raoul was able to accept and forgive, it is really not her job to judge him. Can the past be buried? What is the use of it anyway? If they don't have a problem otherwise, why to generate them? This poor man tried and did his best to be the best husband and father he could be. And at each time they had a more serious misunderstanding, Christine would say something rude, Erik would say something rude in return, and something totally disastrous would happen. Erik's convulsions flashed in front of her eyes for a second, then storming out of the room, a car accident… after a life Erik had before, should they do this over and over again? Shall this man have no peace and calm finally in his last years? Why does she always have to question his actions?

Erik was unintentionally rocking back and forth on the side of the bed, bracing himself with his arms, trying to compose his thoughts to be able to accept the things he will have to face. But something else had happened than he was prepared of.

Christine sat down next to him, placing her hand on his trembling shoulder and stroke it with love. Erik looked up at her, trying to figure out what was going to happen. He was truly afraid. The worrying wife hugged him close to herself, placing his skull head against her breast, stroking his right ear. She knew in these long years, that it was going to settle his nerves. Erik chose not to say a word yet, as he wasn't sure if Christine was still angry with him or not, and he did not wish to test it out. Things were going to happen anyway. They were sitting like that for a time when Christine finally asked.

\- Can you hear my heartbeat, Erik?

\- I can. – He replied shortly.

\- And what does it say? – She went on.

\- I… I honestly… am not sure what… what do you wish, Christine… where are we going?

\- I would suggest you to clean out your ears if you can't hear it. – Christine chuckled.

Erik looked up with surprise. He was prepared of a fight, and yet Christine was joking around with him, just like nothing had happened before.

\- Christine…

\- Sssssh! Erik… I wish to tell you something.

\- Go on. – He looked at her with a hint of hope.

\- Once a clever man told me life was too short to live in anxiety. – She started.

\- Truer words never spoken. – Erik nodded. – Yet he is not that clever. If he was he'd watch his mouth better.

\- Oh Erik… do you know what is the truth?

\- What?

\- That actually your statement about ballerinas… is true. – She sighed.

\- I told you. – Erik laughed out, half crying. – But if our daughter wishes to be one… it is fine with me.

Christine sniffed as well, hugging him close to her, and they were hugging and kissing together for a long time, finally learning that huge scenes were better on the stage than in real life. They both agreed that they will not get everything so seriously, and that some things in the past are better not bothered and buried deep inside the back of one's mind. They should concentrate on happy remaining years together – as neither of them will get younger. Christine learned that she does not have to constantly judge Erik, and keep an eye on him to prevent catastrophes, which were rather going to happen if they quarrel. And Erik learned to relax… it was not always what he expected. Things can turn better, not always the worse. He learned that misunderstandings did not mean Christine did not love him anymore, and did not necessarily lead to catastrophes.

They needed nearly 20 years to learn the lesson – it took long, but it was worth it.


	66. Chapter 66

Not only Erik and Christine learned an important lesson.

Noel was getting mature in thinking as well after he saw what Flo was capable of. He had to admit that before he could hear it performed, he did not think that symphony was that much great, and he envied Florian because he was taken to London for something everyone could do. Well, everyone but him, to be honest. Everyone played music in the family. Papa was a composer and played instruments, Mama was an opera singer, Mahtab was a violinist and pianist, Flo was a violinist and composer, and even Belle loved music and she was dancing. Only Noel seemed to be out of musical talent. He envied the rest of his family for it, and sometimes thought he was not really their son. If he was, he might be able to play just as fine as Flo. The truth is, though, he never was interested enough to try before, and Erik did not force anything on him. Now that Noel heard Flo's symphony during the rehearsals, he suddenly started to feel more respect towards his older brother. Otherwise, he liked Florian, but he never thought so highly of him before. He considered Florian as a "Mom's little crybaby" and "coward" and sometimes as "boring" as he was never into fun things. He was afraid of even smaller explosions or fires and would rather hide than fight or play battle with other kids. Noel often walked home from the streets from playing with other boys, being a total mess. His clothes were dirty and ripped many times, and Christine had to give him some less fancy clothes when she knew he will go to play with the boys on the square, as she knew Noel will arrive home as dirty as a pig. Flo yet was like Erik in that aspect- he would always tidy his clothing and made sure it was perfect in every way. Erik did not mind Noel's fights too much. "Boys will be boys." As he said, and he knew the little son would never get seriously injured in those games. The only thing he explained Noel was to never hit girls and if he can avoid fight, do not provoke it out on purpose.

But during the rehearsals Noel completely changed.

He paid attention to music only, and let it fill up his heart. He never imagined music can be so beautiful. Until that point, he only saw that his siblings were practicing for hours without any possible fun. It entertained them for some reason, but he felt he would die out of boredom if he had to sit down to play scales or learn a song. He enjoyed if Papa or Flo played, but a full orchestra was something else. It enchanted his soul and he finally met a feeling, that special one he did not know before. He heard Papa and Mama, and Flo talk about this feeling many times, but he never felt it, but when he heard Flo's music, and especially when Papa played that one violin solo, his clear blue eyes filled up with tears, and he could not even reason why was he crying. Crying…? Sobbing like a toddler for coco. He loathed crying before, especially in front of other people. He considered himself as a man, and a man never cries. Yet now he felt the urge to be all emotional, and after the main rehearsal, one day before the concert, he walked to Florian and hugged him. With passion. With admiration. He admired Flo the first time in their life together. Finally he felt like he could learn something from his older brother and Flo wasn't just a crybaby.

\- Flo. You are a remarkable man. – He said.

The older boy was touched and surprised of Noel's passion towards him, and his honest admiration. It felt so good to be respected by the boy he considered much braver and emotionally stable he was. To tell the truth, he admired Noel too, for his mature and manly behavior, the lack of tears and that Noel always knew what to do.

Another surprising happening occurred when Noel suddenly walked to Erik after the dinner, looked his father in the eye and asked:

\- What size of violin I need?

\- You are rather tall for your age, and yet I'd say a 10 year old would need a ¾, you could try a full size already. Why? – He inquired.

\- I want to learn. I know it will be long and I need patience. I have little patience but I am hardworking. Teach me.

\- I thought you were not interested in music, son. – Erik smiled.

\- I thought so too.

\- Well, we can try. – Papa nodded. – Yet you have to know that most likely you won't be a musician any more. You are in a good five year delay, it is very hard to make up for it.

\- I don't want to be a musician, not a professional at least. I just feel that something was missing from my life before everyone else had in my family, and I just understood what it was.

\- Well, we can see what you inherited. – Erik smiled widely. – You have the most talented opera singer mother and your father is a musician after all. Music teaches you to patience. I was like you in my childhood, I could not sit on my bottom for five minutes and practice was pain.

\- And why did you continue?

\- At first, I started to like when I could finally play something. That gave me inspiration to bear scales easier. Secondly, your grandmother made me. I wasn't allowed to do anything else until I finished that day's lesson on the piano. I was forbidden from getting up from the piano bench until I finished as if I did, I never returned and was away, committing mischief.

\- Did you not try to outsmart her? – Noel grinned.

\- I did. Many times I tried to get away from it, making up excuses that I was thirsty, I had to go to the bathroom, or something like that, but it was only worse as I was just really procrastinating, and I received punishment if I did not do the lesson. Yet you must know that I won't force you to practice. If you practice, you do. If you don't, you don't. I won't implore you to do so either, as it is not for my good. You want to learn, you have to learn.

\- I want to play. I will practice. – Noel stated. – Finally I know WHY to practice.

Erik got strangely delighted upon hearing Noel's plans. Even though he wasn't bothered by his youngest son's lack of interest in music, and he said as long as he was sure the children will make a living from what they do, they should do and study whatever they want to, it still felt good that his small "copy" finally understood the beauty in music and wished to engage in that activity somewhat.

The concert's day held some unpleasant surprises for the family.

Just as Erik started to think everything went too smoothly in this case and they are extremely lucky to have the concert will be gotten done without any trouble, Christine hurried into the salon where Erik waited for Flo to finally get dressed.

\- I hope the boy is done with dressing. We have to get there shortly. – Erik checked his pocket watch.

\- Flo isn't feeling well. – Christine stated worriedly.

\- Oh God no. – Erik mumbled in front of himself. – What is his problem?

\- He can't speak and I feel he is feverish. And he vomited once earlier.

\- Meh. – Erik sighed. – Tonsillitis maybe? Or simply just a sore throat. Kids often vomit with a throat infection.

\- I know, I am rather bothered by his temperature.

\- Is it very high?

\- He feels hot… Erik are you NOT planning to take him like this, are you? – Christine asked suspiciously.

\- I am not sure, I have to check on him. – Frustrated, the man walked to his son's room.

He found the boy desperately trying to tie his cravat in front of the mirror. He looked feverish, really, but seemingly he was able to function.

\- Flo come here, I do it for you. – Erik offered. – How are you feeling?

\- It doesn't matter. – Flo replied, nearly inaudibly, but with a determined expression.

\- Are you sure you are well enough to conduct?

\- Music… is FIRST. – The boy grabbed Erik's bony wrist. – It is… first, Papa.

\- A little Mozart. Composing on his death bed and conducting Magic Flute with rheumatic fever.

\- Papa, don't make me… stay home. – Flo begged.

Erik did not have the heart to force the young composer in bed, even though he wasn't a hundred percent sure Florian was well enough to conduct a whole symphony. He sighed and patted the enthusiast's shoulder.

\- That is the spirit, my son.

As Flo appeared next to Erik in the salon, wearing his full gala suit, Christine nearly screamed out in displeasure, but a glance from Erik suddenly silenced her. Of course, they can't chose the right thing always. It is Flo's big day, and the child himself made this decision. She just hoped it won't wear him out too much and it won't cause a more serious illness later.

She, to be sure, wrapped the boy in a thicker cover and he sat in the coach wrapped up in the blanket from head to knee- length not to catch the cold and damp chilly weather with his already hurting throat. Erik gave him a spoonful of some kind of medicine before they left, and it slowly made Flo feel better a bit. By the time he had to stand at his place, all his pain and worry seemed to melt away. Flo was too short yet, despite of his age, to see the sheet music and be seen by the orchestra at a normal conductor's place, so they needed to put an extra step for him to stand on it. Erik was standing at the solo violinist's place, in front of the string section's first violin seat. Flo was able to look into his eyes for a bit of emotional support, which Erik was trying to give him the best he could. Christine worriedly sat in a box with Mahtab, Noel, Belle and the Daroga. Belle was surprisingly a good girl, she was taken away by the sight of the theater. She looked around with mouth wide open.

As the orchestra started to tune, Flo's heart bet rapidly. There were so many people in the rows of the audience. He was never in a situation like this before. He was too young, and ill. He looked at Erik, but as a soloist, he was as well too much occupied tuning the violin, so they could not make eye contact. Flo took a deep breath and coughed some due to his throat being irritated, but looked up at the box where his family sat. Mahtab and Noel both noticed Flo's temporary fright and they both showed him a thumbs up sign, making him sure of their support. Flo was touched to see his brothers cheering for him, and he felt a bit less stressed. He turned to the orchestra and soon the big moment came.

He found out it was better to think it was just a rehearsal they were constantly doing by now, that thought did not stress him out that much. The first movements fast pace did not let him think that much anyway. It was gallop. His hands were dancing to the rhythm in the air, he had to go a good half beat before the orchestra in his mind, and the whole orchestra made of grown up people were staring at a 12 year old boy who did not reach higher than the music stand in front of him without that extra step. It was a strange but great feeling. These people could always tell him to go to his room to practice if he was just here as a member of the orchestra, but like this, being the composer of this whole symphony they perform, they obey his every move. Such a power…

Thankfully the audience did not ruin the symphony by clapping between two movements, as the composer feared. He could easily, without any distraction, switch to the second, slower movement. This section was the emotionally enchanting part, with some endearments, but a hint of pain included, some strange melancholy, but mostly hope was dominant in the notes. In the middle of this movement there was Erik's longer violin solo. The old man, yet he was performing in front of an audience before, was a bit nervous still. It was his first time in a concert hall, at a legally organized concert, not just his Russian or Persian show with tricks included. Music shall now enchant people in itself. Erik closed his eyes and gave himself to the sweet notes of his son's melody, he interpret the work mixing his own life experience, talent and feelings in it, and his violin really sounded like a divine instrument.

The audience was listening with breathless awe, most of the ladies were drying their eyes with handkerchiefs upon hearing Erik's solo, married couples pulled closer to each other, and some kind of strange harmony was going through the rows, as people were enchanted by the notes- nearly as they were in hypnosis…

When, right in the middle of the solo, the A string on Erik's finely tuned and prized instrument chose just this exact moment to give up work and got tired of this life under so much pressure, and with a pluck, snapped in Erik's face, hitting the mask and the glasses. Just the right moment!

Erik did not panic at all, but to Flo it was a bit of unexpected. The boy was a lot more inexperienced, and knew that a string replacement for a violin can take a little while, a few minutes. How will they handle it in the middle of a solo when the music was supposed to flow like a river? Papa… what's now? Will the audience be impatient…? It was just a few seconds while Erik just randomly put the "damaged" violin down and reached out for the replacement one to play, handed to him by the first chair violinist. Erik was actually an old fox in the business and it was utterly hard to make him panic just over a string. It happens. He was even better with the instrument given to him, it being a Stradivarius. "Better than my own" he thought. Flo nearly turned all pale while the incident, but his shaking little hands dictated the tempo for his father just as before. Erik did not miss a beat. He was trained, experienced and cool headed. The audience noticed the scene indeed, but as the music wasn't interrupted, and Erik reacted so naturally, they admired the old man even more for that.

The second, then the third and fourth movements went without any incidents. Erik was playing magnificently, and Flo did not feel ill at all. He was nearly out of his body and did not care about anything, only concentrated at his task. When the final accords of the last section played and were still floating in the air, Flo closed his eyes and nervously waiting for the reactions. Oh how good is that he is standing with his back to them. Looking at their faces would have bothered him a lot more. There was a few moments long silence after the last notes, giving everyone involved in the production a strange uncomfortable feeling. Erik perplexedly handed the Stradivarius back to the first violinist, while trying to figure out the audience's reactions. He did not have to wonder any more.

In the next moment there was a loud cheering exploded out of the audience, people were clapping, and excited cries of applause escaped their lips, busily chanting for both father and son. Erik climbed up next to Florian and gently turned the clueless little thing to face the cheering crowd. Flo just realized he had success, and half with a huge grin, half crying he bowed several times. Erik bowed as well, receiving the congratulations touched, but secretly he looked up at the box where Christine sat, and meeting his family's loving gestures, he felt such a bliss, more of a bliss than by anyone else congratulating him. They had to stand there and bow for the audience for long – long minutes, and the clap did not want to reduce. The audience stood up to clap for them, and chanted their names. When the clap reduced, they finally were able to leave the orchestra pit, Erik guiding Flo by the hand, and carrying his violin in his right.

Flo was tired and started to feel the throat infection overcome him again. He hugged Papa's neck when he was feeling more tired and finally he fell asleep in his arms. In the end of this long day, full of surprises and victory, the young boy slept so peacefully he did not even wake up in the coach, or while he was being carried to bed. Erik removed the boy's shoes, bow tie and frock coat, but did not fully undress the poor thing. He just put his palm on Flo's forehead to check his temperature, but it did not seem to be too high, so he just kissed his son good night and left him to a nice refreshing and curing sleep.

As he tiredly joined to the rest of his happy and touched family in the salon, and sat down to his favorite armchair with his violin on his lap to change the A string, Erik smiled and said:

\- You know, my dears, if I died overnight, I could tell I had a happy life. – He sighed dreamily.


	67. Chapter 67

Thankfully Erik did not die overnight. Not even the night after. And not in the next two years either.

Partly because he did not even have time for that, as he jokingly remarked sometimes. After that one concert, which was a huge success, they had to perform the symphony many- many times, and sometimes they switched places with Erik for special requests. Flo played the violin, and Erik conducted. This, however made people realize that Florian was also an incredible violinist, just like his father. This caused him to receive commissions for playing the violin at many concerts and private ceremonies of High Society. In half a year, the young child prodigy became London's main attraction, and aristocrats were financially challenging each other to have the boy play at their parties. Of course, people weren't only madly in love with the boy's, but the father's playing as well, as Erik made the audience weep at each concert. Many noble families requested them play a duo, which gave Erik an extra task besides aiding his son. Practicing and learning new pieces, refreshing the old repertoire, and composing new pieces for himself and his son to perform, or learning Flo's new compositions. Christine was sometimes worried that Erik will overstrain himself yet again, just as in Paris. It was a challenge for him to take care of the family already, and he was so old… Christine was terribly afraid of new seizures and possibly worse health issues to come. She was praying for Erik very often, asking God to give him strength.

The loving wife's prayers must have helped, as Erik, despite he turned 70 in February 1902, was totally changed. Both his health and his mood turned considerably better. He did not have any grand mal seizures since they moved to London from Paris, he only suffered through small absence seizures, which weren't too serious, only caused him to stare blankly in front of himself for a few seconds, otherwise his health was perfect, and he felt like he got back his youth. He was able to run up and about, organize concerts and keep everything in mind, managing son's career and tutoring all the other children, practice and compose just as he was younger by thirty years. He had only so much energy back when he was working on the Opera, as he remembered back.

\- You can wait, my children, until you inherit something. I will be 100 years old when you have to literally drown me in my bath if you want to get my belongings before you all turn at least 50 as well.

He teasingly remarked sometimes with a nasty little laughter all the children seemed to enjoy. They knew he was only joking and all of them wished him to be around for as long as possible. All the children loved Erik so much they could not imagine what they would do without him.

And Erik loved all his children as well, just like his dear Christine. Each of the children gave him so much happiness in his old days he could not imagine to have before. He felt God was trying to make up to him for the first 50 years of his life by giving him a loving and caring family. It was already 21 years since they were married with Christine, and his beautiful wife could not be a better companion. He knew he was most likely not getting another 50 years for compensation, but he found every second with his family a gift from Heaven, and praised the Lord for it. Unlike in his younger years, he started praying in his mind, with his own words, often thanking God for his family, and asking him to keep all of his loved ones in good health and happiness.

Mahtab was a great aid for Erik, to begin with. The good old man wasn't at least all alone for all of the tasks. Erik used Mahtab as his right (or well, he was left- handed so maybe left) hand. Mahtab was helping him a ton by sending out important letters, lining Erik's paper for writing sheet music, as it was a boring and tiring task Erik hated to do, and Mahtab was more than happy to provide freshly lined sheet music paper for Papa and Flo as well. He was also copying and filling out melodies, actually acting like a real composer and copier. Erik would always tell him what kind of cadence Flo or he imagined for that part, and he gave Mahtab a rough sketch of their imaginations and the oldest child always filled that out and helped Papa and his brother all he could. Mahtab finally felt like he was useful. He taught Florian to speak English, and they were good enough to converse in English only after a few months. They mostly used it if they did not know the younger kids to know what they were talking about. These were his lucky years. He learned how to wear that human mask and was already old enough to understand the concept of hiding his face artificially and naturally, just as the rubber mask were his real features. No one knew the family in London. Mahtab received a chance to be normal, and he loved to live with it, yet he was a bit of too awkwardly shy in other people's company. Partly he was afraid of the same thing as his father was before – that his false face was going to slip off of him, causing people to see his real face and things would turn out to be like before: hatred, beatings, screams… sometimes he still remembered back at the happenings on the train and at that school. Yet he tried not to worry too much over this happening. He tried his best to socialize just as the Daroga and Erik trained him. He was taught to dance and politely approach anyone, so he acted like an honorable member of society and son of a family everyone respected in the city.

Respect was something new to Erik. He used to hide from mankind before and live as separated as possible. No one heard his compositions before, and now that London adored him and his sons, and daughter, he did not know how to handle the situation. Love and acceptance from others than Christine and his children was completely alien and he exactly knew it was just false adoration. If these people knew how he looked like under the realistic mask, they would do just the same to him as in Paris. Avoiding contact, brush accidental touch marks off of their clothing just as if he had leprosy, sending him weird glances, laughing at him, throwing stones or bits of ice at him, calling him names… But at least London did not yet know what he and Mahtab were. He prayed that they will never ever find out their dark secrets they had to hide behind that normal looking face.

Christine had a lot of things to do as well, despite Erik was the manager to Flo. Christine was the honorable wife of the widely respected Mr. Spoke (yes, they usually still misread or mispronounced their names, but Erik and everyone were too tired by now to correct them), and she had to raise the younger children, write the letters Erik had to, as if Erik wrote them, no one in the Universe, including Erik would be able to read them, and such a cramped handwriting was really not be able to live up to the first class performer her husband was. She was a kind of secretary other than a wife and mother, and she liked it. She adored to spend time with her small daughter, who turned out to be a little lady.

Belle was already 4 years old, and a talkative cheerful little girl who adored to wear beautiful clothes and jewelry and loved to play with her mother's make – up accessories. Just like a small girl in her age. Belle also had a kind heart, and an interest about animals, especially cats and horses were her favorites. She was an enthusiast dancer and when the older children received some lessons to be able to dance in public, even though Belle was yet too young to be present in a party that required such a talent to be shown, she also wished to learn to dance at least proper waltz. Christine show her the steps and she was so happy when Mama praised her for learning so fast and easily. Belle ran to Erik excitedly to show off her new skills and Christine had to wipe a few drops of tears out of the corner of her eyes, looking at the sweet little girl dancing with her kind of old, but still childishly happy husband. Belle had to stand on Erik's shoes to be somewhat tall enough for them to be able to do something that looked like waltz- but they had so much fun together it was touching to watch. Belle adored her father. No matter how much she was clinging to Christine and wished to learn girly things, it was Erik who had to put her to bed, telling her a good night story. Christine also offered her to tell her a story when Erik was late to arrive home, but the little girl would rather wait for her Papa to return, yawning and nearly dozing off, but still she wanted Erik.

\- You don't tell the story as well as Papa, because he talks on more voices and you don't.

She explained. Well, it was true. Christine could never get close enough to Erik's intonation and ventriloquism he used to entertain the children. Belle, despite the secret they did never talk about, held a special place in both of the parents hearts, Erik often called her "my little Queen" or "darling". She was already fluent in English, that was the language she got used to in half of her life, yet she did not forget French either as the family used French to communicate mostly. Erik did not consider telling the bedtime story to Belle after arriving home from concerts a burden. On the contrary, it helped him to relax after the hard work. All the other children were already too old for a story, so father and daughter could concentrate on just each other, having some alone time together. The bedtime story wasn't always the usual one you would tell a child. Bell, in her complete enthusiasm about horses, often asked Erik to tell her a story about horses. Erik would improvise sometimes, or tell something he learned about them in his youth, and once he got the random idea to read the horserace report to Belle from the newspaper. She found the names of the horses funny and she was seemingly interested in it, so it was at least something acceptable if he had no better idea.

Noel had changed much in those 2 years. Practicing the violin taught him a lesson. He became less wild, more patient, and determined and less prone to make trouble. Of course, his Erik – like sassy temper stayed, but tamed much, and he was mostly an obedient and helpful boy by the age of 12. Other than Mahtab, he resembled the most to Erik, even more than Mahtab in some aspects. While Mahtab's movements in general weren't like Erik's, Noel walked, bowed and gestured with his hands while speaking just like his father. Even his hair started turning darker by his teens, and now he had a light brownish hair, and his nose became pointier. He wasn't ugly, he had a quite handsome face and an enchanting smile, yet he still had some angled features that suited him and only added to his maturity. He was much taller than an ordinary 12 year old, and his voice started to resemble Erik's in a way. He could not even deny the relationship between them.

Noel wasn't the only one who changed, yet the other change wasn't that positive. Florian changed as well, slowly but steady. His success and the admiration surrounding him were slowly turning him vain and self- conceited. The meek and modest little boy that arrived to London so excitedly, slowly disappeared, and was replaced by a cynical, arrogant teen full of star allures and special requests and needs. He started to think he was the best musician on Earth, even better than his father, and that people adore his music for the reason it was the best ever. He did not like to play pieces by other composers any more, thinking they could not reach his skills, this included Mozart, Bach and Beethoven too, and this behavior was only made worse by the newspaper's admiring criticisms, which put Flo on pedestal concert after concert, claiming him to be the "best thing that had happen in music history after notes were invented" and such. He took on a habit of making his younger siblings call him "Maestro", and call them deaf idiots if they missed a note during rehearsals or family gatherings. Erik did not like this change in Florian's way of acting at all. Neither did the other adults, and it annoyed the children as well. All of the family, including Erik, Christine and the Daroga often gave him lectures about modesty, humbleness, respect for the old masters and the way a true artist should see and approach the arts. He did not really listen to his family, and would either yawn at the lectures, showing how much bored he was, or he would just tell them that he did not need to be lectured as he wasn't a small child anymore and he knew his father was only jealous for not having such a talent as he had.

\- Papa, next generation always seem to have more talent. Sons outgrow fathers, Papa, think of the Mozarts. You are kind and I am thankful you taught me to everything I know right now, but the lessons are over. You can't teach me to more things. I am now the perfect musician. I know everything and there is nothing I could not solve by my incredible talent.

Erik, after these sentences, really had to concentrate on not to slap his son. He never got the urge so much before to hit one of his children, but it really would not solve anything. This was an issue neither slaps nor would other kinds of common punishments solve. Florian deserved a punishment that he will keep remembering in all his coming life, and learn to respect other musicians, the older, the wiser, and arts in general! Seems like the boy was praised too much in the last two years, and thinks too highly of himself thanks to that fact. It can't stay this way if they want him to grow up to be a man with normal standards. Erik did not blame the boy too much for it still. He had to admit he had a similar phase in his youth just as his son. He learned the lesson on the hard way as well, when he had to notice he wasn't able to do anything he wanted and he will always have boundaries, and could not say he was the best. He knew already that losing his voice back then wasn't God's punishment for his vanity, he was only maturing and had to overcome his voice changing, but it was at least good for something for Erik: it put him on his place. Florian needed the same kind of humiliation as he had to suffer when he wanted to show his angelic voice to the crowd, and realized he wasn't able to do more than some laughable chuckles. That was when he learned talent was not always enough to be the best, and that you shall never think so highly of yourself. Erik, to be honest, still was a bit of too proud of his music and talent and he listed it as one of his flaws, but he was nowhere near Flo's level of extreme pride which had to be stopped.

Actually Erik felt sorry for his son in advance for the lesson he had to face, but he knew nothing else would help as he did not listen to nice talking before. He was in the worst age group: he was a teen and boys in his age did not like to listen to adults. One has to learn from their mistakes and sometimes the lesson is a very painful one.

The next concert was at a noble family's party, who was a returning client. Florian did not really care about it, he considered it as a routine job. Especially that he liked to take practicing too easily nowadays. "I know it anyway, and if I happen to make a mistake, these musically untrained things won't even notice." He would say. He did not take the new piece seriously either. He only knew Papa wrote it for him and he was used to sight reading, and besides Papa wrote him good and easily playable pieces.

This was Florian's huge flaw that he underestimated the new composition, as it was a trap just made for him. The piece Erik wrote was the hardest piece he had ever written for the violin, technically nearly unplayable, requiring such a virtuosity that it was a challenge even for Erik, who happened to play the violin for long decades. It was Devil's Toccata in 13 pages. Yes, 13 pages of violin solo. Erik's lucky number was 13, and he wished to send a message to his son by the fateful bad luck number. Erik listed his son's weaknesses he knew about as he exactly knew what Flo wasn't the best at nowadays, especially that he did not practice enough. The piece was completely made of staccato pizzicato notes, challenging bowings, huge jumps between notes, all, of course in " _prestissimo_ " tempo signature, and written in F sharp major, making sight reading more complicated, following all of the sharps, but Erik often used natural signs to confuse the child even more.

The proud little artist suspected nothing when they walked into the main salon of the family. He and Erik both wore their finest gala suits and everything looked so perfect, just as usual. It was nearly boring. There were about 100 people there, so it wasn't a big deal. Flo was already used to play in front of hundreds of people without a blink of an eye. When people started paying attention to them, Erik stepped next to his son, and at first, was considering to cancel his plan. Oh that boy did not deserve such a punishment… but when he remembered back to the other day when Florian yelled at Mahtab and Noel, calling them deaf idiots just because a wrong note, his thin malformed lips squeezed together behind the rubber mask, and he took a deep breath.

\- Ladies and Gentlemen! Tonight's performance is going to be a unique one as my son likes to brag about being the most talented musician of all time nowadays. Therefore, today I brought him a piece that will show his talent.

Florian closed his eyes halfway and grinned. Oh, Papa, you always make me feel better. Erik put the sheet music on the stand, and announced:

\- My son hasn't seen this music before. I wrote it for him, and he is going to sight read it.

Flo nodded graciously and opened the sheet music to look at the first page, but upon seeing what the piece looked like, he gave out a little gasp. He turned a bit pale-ish, knowing he will have trouble playing that by first sight, but he was too proud to admit it. He stood up in playing position and tried his best to follow the music… but what a devilishly hard music was that. He was hardly able to play it at all. Erik and all the guests were staring at him with disbelief in their eyes, while he struggled with the notes. "Can you not play this?" He read it from the expressions. He miserably failed many times, the naturals confused him, the sharps were often misused, he failed with such quick staccato pizzicatos and oh God… it was technically unplayable. Flo was sweating, turning pale, rolling his eyes desperately, and trying to collect his spirits to struggle with the Devil's music. He wanted to show his talent… that this music was nothing to him… yet it was not true. He gave up at page 6, after many – many horrendous tries and flawed technique. He just stood there, defeated, humiliated and unsure of his talent. Can it be he is not THAT good? But at least, sure Papa can't play it either…

\- What's wrong, Florian? – Erik's voice rang through the room, as he slowly walked closer. – Is it really that hard for SUCH a genius as you are? I thought you were the best musician ever, and it was supposed to be a child's play for you…

Flo only shook his head, and looked at Erik with pleading eyes.

\- Papa… can we stop? – He whispered.

\- Stop? – Erik leaned closer, whispering too. – No, son. The audience deserves the music played.

He took the violin from his son, sending him a small defeating glance, and he started playing instead of the child. Erik could play flawlessly. Florian felt even worse by facing the fact that he was nothing, still nothing compared to his father. As Erik played the extreme level of crazily hard, but still beautiful musical piece, he nearly sank under the floor and wanted to cover his face, but he had to keep the last crumbles of his dignity. It was the worst thing ever happened to him in his life. He felt nothing like the self- conceited artist any longer. The layers of vanity and pride were peeling off of his soul, leaving nothing but the 14 year old boy he was before.

While they were going home, he said nothing, and neither did Erik. After they returned, he disappeared in his room to cry. Erik felt a bit of guilt and he told Christine what had happened. She nodded and softly said:

\- That served him right. It is hard to say such a thing… but he deserved it.

After some time, Florian appeared next to Erik, stood next to him, squeezing the violin in his hand, looking up at his father with his eyes full of tears.

\- Papa…?

\- Yes?

\- I am sorry… I am sorry for… for the way I acted. I was wrong. Terribly wrong.

\- I am glad you see it. – Erik nodded and patted the boy's shoulder. – I only wanted the best for you.

\- I know.

\- And I am not angry with you. – Erik assured.

\- Thank you Papa… and… not all the others are angry?

\- Ask them about that. But maybe not. You have good siblings. They understand.

\- Papa…?

\- Yes?

\- May I ask something? – He whispered.

\- Of course, Flo.

\- Please… teach me that devilishly hard piece… teach me… I need you.

\- I teach you with pleasure, my son. I am glad you feel you still need me.

\- And… I love you. – He hugged Erik, still squeezing the violin.

\- I love you too, dear. And I will always love you.

Other than the concert, another life- changing happening shook the family's life on that exact week.

Mahtab was walking home from his walk in the evening. It was a cool autumn night, already dark. Mahtab liked to take walks alone, either sketching some buildings or just getting deep in his thoughts. He wasn't afraid even after darkness fell on the city, and foggy weather did not make him feel uncomfortable either. He knew he was able to defend himself from any kind of danger, and his parents knew that he was always home in one piece, and anyway… can anyone tell a 17 year old, nearly grown – up person what to or what not to do? These walks only lasted for an hour or so, and he always arrived home refreshed and happy, so there was no need to worry.

During one of these walks though, when Mahtab walked a bit further than his usual path, he suddenly witnessed something he could not pass without a single word and act.

As it was a foggy and unfriendly evening, there were no people on the streets. Yet at the London Bridge's stairs, there he saw two people. A fat, huge man and a smaller boy. The man was yelling so loudly that Mahtab wondered why no one opens their window to silence the drunkard.

\- Ya only made six guineas? Ya think it's 'nough? Huh? Not 'nough for beer either, ya piece o' shit!

Suddenly the man slapped the poor boy hard, just as hard that the child fell on his knees. The beast yelled and grabbed the boy by his hair, lifting him up from the ground, demanding him to go back to beg for more money, otherwise he was going to kill him by various cruel ways. Mahtab gasped and hid to see what was going to happen. He was ready to interfere if the bastard dares to hit the boy once more. Sadly, he did not only hit. He kicked, and slammed the poor boy against the bridge's wall, several times. Mahtab never saw such a thing, and never heard someone saying so disgusting words about a child.

He could not tolerate the happenings any longer and he knew he had to save the child. From behind he jumped at the fat idiot, and before he could turn to face Mahtab, he already had a string around his neck. The drunkard could not ask for help as his throat got squeezed more and more, and the idiot also did what the victims mostly did wrong: he tried to free himself by getting further from Mahtab, which only made the string got tighter and tighter… After a few seconds the disgusting man fell in front of Mahtab's boots, lifelessly.

The scene which played between the man and the boy earlier made Mahtab so angry that he felt no sympathy for the man or regret about what he did. He thought it was only righteous what the man received, and the poor boy was most likely killed if he did not defend the poor thing. He only dragged the body to the water, removed the string from his neck and pushed the man to float away in peace. He did it with such a calm and lack of emotions and regret that he got surprised of it. Yet he now had more important things to do than to wonder about a worm's life.

The boy was lying next to the wall, unconsciously, as he did not react to the happenings. Thankfully maybe he saw nothing. Mahtab knelt down to examine the small body, happily realizing that he was still alive. Gently he lifted up the boy, who was thin, oh so thin as a skeleton, the little one.

\- Come. – Mahtab whispered, but this time she used her girlish voice unintentionally. – We are going home. Fear not.

She knew Papa will examine the boy better than she could, and she also knew they did not have much time. The poor thing needed help.


	68. Chapter 68

The Persian sat in his chair after dinner, reading something when he suddenly, after turning the page, he dropped the book happily, just as if he went crazy. He jumped up and ran to Erik, who just finished telling Belle's bedtime story and appeared in the doorway. Mohammed caught him excitedly by the shoulder, using both hands.

\- Erik…! Erik look what I can do! I can grab you by both hands!

\- Thank Heavens, that is what I was praying for and lit a candle for at St. Anthony, Daroga, that you give unwanted physical contact so forcefully.

\- Stop being sarcastic, I can move my left!

Erik looked at the Persian's left hand on his shoulder and nodded, realizing the truth. He smiled at his old friend, gently tapping the so long unused hand with a kind of emotion the Daroga could have described as "friendly love".

\- Just take care, don't overstrain it yet.

Erik's voice became softer and he had to turn away so the other man could not see him crying, yet he exactly knew what was going on with the skeletally thin and though ex Opera Ghost.

Just to end this touching scene there was a bang on the front door and they could hear some moans. Erik was suspicious something might have gone wrong so he hurriedly, but carefully opened the door to check who that late visitor was. When he saw Mahtab with a lifeless and bleeding child in the arms, with a scared look in his eyes and slightly trembling hands and feet, he asked nothing. He knew the child needed help that instant, and they had no time to lose by questioning. It can wait. Without a word he slowly and carefully took the child, which appeared to be a tortured boy, out of his child's hand and he took the body to the dining table to examine it better, as it was the most stable spot he could find at that moment. He examined the boy from head to foot, while the Daroga walked closer with another candle, giving a deep sigh.

\- I guess it wasn't you, who hurt him, Moonlight.

\- Of course not. – Mahtab swallowed with disgust, thinking back to that worm.

\- God, what is this…? What has happened? – Christine's worried voice rang behind their back as she walked closer to find the poor child put on the table.

\- Go back to bed, Christine, Erik is going to join you soon. – Erik tried to calm her out of routine while he was looking at the boy's injuries.

\- Who is this child? – Christine went on nervously.

\- He is my poor son. – Mahtab replied. – I found him in a life threatening situation and I am going to make his life turn to the better. Papa, please say you can save him.

\- His injuries are not too serious. He sure has concussion and broken ribs. His nose is broken and he was beaten not long before. Look at these marks, Daroga. I think he was beaten by a whip. Mahtab… have you seen an adult with him or he was alone? How did he get injured?

\- There was a man. – Mahtab said softly. – He threw him to the wall of the bridge… and… well I had to save him.

\- How did you save him from a grown up man? – The Daroga got a bit of suspicious.

\- I just caught him up and ran.

\- Did he not try to follow you? – Christine asked, stepping closer. – He could have hurt you too!

\- I made sure he can't hurt anyone any more. – Mahtab whispered in front of herself, while sending a glassy glance towards her mother.

\- What do you mean? – The poor woman had a jaw drop from shock, while Erik turned his head to the side to see his child's pale face as she removed the human mask tiredly, as she was sweating too much. She had to sit down on one of the dining chairs, and wipe her forehead. She felt so tired and like a helpless girl, not the strong boy he was before.

Mahtab murdered someone. Now everyone knew it. Everyone in the room. The Daroga saw the same body language on the child as he saw it on Erik after such a horrible act. And the way she intonated the words she made "sure", it did not leave a doubt in Christine's heart either that the child indeed made a hundred percent sure the man could not follow anyone any more. A shiver ran down her spine when she realized what had happened. She felt the same when Erik told her on that horrible night that the visitor will never ask the time from anyone any more. Her hands were trembling and she stared at Mahtab as if she saw her for the first time. The baby she rocked in her arms on the night of her birth now took a life of someone. How could have this happened? She knew it was a bad idea to train the child for murder. Erik turned that poor innocent girl to a murderer just in a few years. Now what shall happen…? How to go on with life with such a burden?

Everyone was silent. Mahtab was looking around in the dining room just as she saw it for the first time, and tried her best not to faint. She recognized everyone in the room, of course, yet all of the people, except her father seemed to be so distant right now. She could feel sheer horror in those eyes, staring at her as if she was just a stranger in her own home. She did not think before and while she killed that drunkard asshole, but at that moment she realized what had she done. She lowered her head and stared at her skeletal hands for a while, not believing she could murder someone with those hands. Maybe people with these ugly hands are more able to kill people than anyone else? The worst thing was she still thought the man deserved it, and when she looked at the little boy, she reassured herself even more about she had done the right thing. She squeezed her lips together, looking into Christine's eyes with a sudden determination, sending the message "I regret nothing."

\- Christine, I suggest you to go back to sleep dear. – Erik's soothing and enchanting voice filled up the room for a short period of time after a long silence. He seemed to be the first who could talk after such a shock, and he acted naturally.

Christine wasn't herself any more, after such a tragedy. She obeyed silently, just as a mindless automaton. She dd not want to and could not think of what to do and how to feel. She allowed Erik to guide her to the master bedroom, and be gently pushed down on the bed. She received the laudanum her husband's skeletal hand offered for her in a spoon, and actually thanked him in her mind for the dreamless and mindless sleep that shall follow.

When Erik returned to the others, he found Mahtab standing beside the table, gently stroking the boy's messy and dirty hair, trying her best to show love to that poor abused thing. Erik simply did not know how to feel about the happenings yet. At first, he was a bit of uncomfortable having yet another child in his home, especially a stranger. Who knows how this boy may act? Despite Mahtab's laughable nativity, which she sure inherited from Christine, Erik knew well that not all children were good. He just had to think back to his own childhood to know that he also was a terrible acting little nuisance to his mentally unstable mother, which sure made her go crazy in the end. Looking at the circumstances the boy was found in, Erik could have sworn that the boy was trained to pickpocket people, just as a real version of Oliver Twist. He was partly annoyed Mahtab had to interfere. It is better to stay out of these issues. Yet another part of his, which he thought nonexistent any more, felt sorry for the poor mistreated kid. The boy reminded him of a younger himself of course, as he was beaten so badly not once in his life. Maybe if they treat him kindly… but does he need a fifth child? Really? Well, now only one thing is sure: they nurse him back to health and his later behavior will show if they need to get rid of him or not. He had no urge to raise a troublesome kid, however abused or miserable the child would be. He was simply too old for a problem child.

\- Mahtab, the boy temporarily sleeps in your bed. Please change the sheets and prepare an old pair of pajamas of one of the boys to dress him in and I throw these rags away he is wearing right now. I bet he has fleas so I don't really encourage you to pet him too much. I bathe him and he receives a badly needed haircut. And you take a bath as well. And leave him alone to rest. We will know more soon about him and that will clear things up.

Erik did not feel like bothering Mahtab with asking about the murder itself and warned the Daroga softly to leave her alone about it as well. Mohammed shook his head with a deep sigh, but did not force on the subject really. It was already late and a scandal would have woken the other children. Yet they knew well that the girl will have to reason her act and tell about the happenings.

Erik took care of the guest, he cleaned his wounds, cut all his hair and shaved the boy's head to have only a few millimeters of hair left, to get rid of lice and he threw away the boy's miserable excuse of clothing. The child looked much better as he was dressed in a clean pair of sleepwear and was cleaned properly and laid in bed. He came to consciousness a few times during the process but he said nothing and he felt lousy, so he fell back asleep and did not have any idea what was happening to him. He just hoped he won't be beaten up again soon.

Contrary to her efforts, Mahtab was unable to sleep, thinking of the act she committed nearly against her will. She found out what it was like to end a life, and it wasn't the most alarming thing she did it, but the way she felt about it. She still did not feel guilt and thought it was a well-deserved and righteous act, and the man was a horrible person and did not deserve life. Yet she knew it wasn't her job to decide if someone deserved life or not, as only God decides over life and death. Mama taught her so and she knew Mama never said false things and always wanted the best for her family. She stood up and walked to the door after some hours spent in agony and she simply needed to tell someone. As she walked out to the salon she noticed Erik's skeletal hand on the handrail of his favorite chair. He was there and did not sleep either. She walked to him and sat down, facing him, without a word at first. She looked around, searching for someone else, but the Daroga wasn't there anymore. There were just the two of them, father and daughter, two living skeletons without mask or any disguise. The naked truth, raw feelings. For a time they were just looking into each other's eyes, but after a long silence Mahtab started speaking.

\- Do you remember when I told you I would not be able to kill someone? – Mahtab sighed.

\- I do. – Erik nodded slowly.

\- And I did not know I could.

\- I know how that can be. – Erik closed his eyes. – It sometimes just happens.

\- I did not think twice. And that's what scares me.

\- You are fine.

\- Are you disappointed in me? – She inquired anxiously.

\- I expected such a thing to happen once. People like you and me can't always avoid it. Sometimes you just have to defend yourself… and you defended someone else.

\- I even paid attention to remove the string from his neck. It means I am cold headed murderer. – She closed her mismatched eyes and turned her head away in shame.

\- It is needed for survival. If you leave a trace they find you.

\- What did Tonton say?

\- He can't really think of a solution.

\- Will he give me to the police? – She asked sadly.

\- He won't. For more reasons, but the most important one is that he loves you and knows that… they would do bad things to you in your situation. But you will have to tell him you are sorry, even if you aren't.

\- I am.

\- That is better. He will eventually get through it and forgive. But he will never forget. I know it from experience. But I need to know some details if you remember, they are important.

\- What do you wish to know?

\- At first, what did you do to the body? Where will they find it?

\- In the Thames. I just pushed it into the water.

\- Not the best thing, you should have hung him on a nearby tree to make it look like suicide. Like this they will search for a murderer, knowing he was strangled then put into water.

\- I was in hurry. – She admitted. – And inexperienced.

\- I know. Were there any people around when you did it?

\- None that I know of.

\- Good. Did you do it with uncovered or covered hands?

\- I wore gloves, it is cold tonight.

\- Thank Heavens.

\- And I removed the string.

\- I know. Like this, chances are low they will know it was you. They will most likely close the case as an unsolved murder and move on. A filthy drunkard is gone. They don't really like them anyway, yet they don't like to admit.

\- They are just rats. As if they had no nose.

\- Kind of. – Erik sighed, knowing Mahtab knows everything right. He placed a hand on her shoulder then patted it.

\- And what about Mama? Is she angry with me? Did she stop loving me?

\- A mother never stops loving her child no matter what. If she loved you from your birth, she can't just forget it all and stop it. Maybe she was shocked because of what you did, it caught her unexpectedly. But she will forgive you and I don't blame you for it either. We are not going to tell it to anyone else, not even your siblings. It remains between you, Mama, Tonton and me. It is enough if we know. We are going to say you just found the boy injured on the street and we nurse him back to health.

\- Can I adopt him, Papa?

\- Legally you can't. You are still a child yourself and you are a single girl without a husband to the law. You have no chance to receive custody. I only promise we nurse him back to health and see what can we do to make him feel better and to help him. Nothing more. I might, mind you I say MIGHT adopt him if he is worthy of it, but please don't be sure of it. We don't even know who he is.

\- I understand. I thank you still for you allowing him to have a chance.

\- Everyone deserves a chance for normal life. – Erik sighed. – It is just up to them if they can live with it or not.

With another deep sigh he sent Mahtab to bed and he walked to the master bedroom to check on his wife. Christine was sleeping peacefully still, despite of the awful news she received. Laudanum is really a magical liquid, Erik had to admit often. It had helped him through various tragedies in his life and was always thankful for its blessed effect on a tortured body and mind in need of rest. He slowly lay down next to her, taking her delicate white little hand in his thin skeletal one and searching for support in her subconscious touch. He knew well it will be a hard thing for her to accept what Mahtab had committed, but he hoped it won't ruin a mother's unconditional love.

The next day when everyone was awake and Erik explained the presence of the young boy in the house and asked everyone not to bother him, and the children seemed to thankfully understand it, Christine finally got emotionally strong enough to have a look at the poor boy. The child had an honest small face, yet it was so pale her heart ached looking at it. When Erik softly told her what the little boy went through when Mahtab saw them, she suddenly could at least understand the reason behind Mahtab's horrible act. She did not appreciate, of cours, but at least understood it. She did not say a single word to scold the teen. She knew Mahtab was punished enough by the mere thought and burden of killing a person. It was something she had to carry with her in her all her life even if she will live for hundred years. Christine sat down on the edge of the bed where the boy was sleeping, and when he woke up and looked at Christine with a look full of sense she smiled at him.

The boy did not know what had happened to him. He was just starting to feel better, but the sight of Christine warmed his soul. He remembered a few blurry images of his mother when he was yet a young boy, and the woman looking at him at that moment looked so much like Mother in his memories… the same blonde hair, blue eyes and kind features. He was sure it was Heaven where he was, as Mother moved to Heaven when he was 3 years old. Yet he still could remember her and he could have sworn he saw Mother, and if it was the case, it was sure because of he died as well and now they rejoined in Heaven, as he heard in liturgical texts earlier. With some pain he sat up in bed where he was placed, he took Christine's hand and cried. The kind woman was unable to do anything else than to hug this poor boy close to herself, careful not to hurt his broken ribs anymore, and soothingly she started to sing for him. She sang a French lullaby unintentionally, one she used to sing for her own children when she wanted to calm them and put them to sleep. Her angelic voice rang in the boy's ears as a confession of love, yet he understood nothing of the lyrics. He never heard that language before, so he assumed it was the language Angels and God uses to communicate. He was thankful for that blessed company and he felt he could remain in her arms forever.


	69. Chapter 69

Yvette de Chagny walked into her beloved husband's study where he was a bit of occupied by examining the notes in a sheet music of a song he used to love in his younger years. He had a violin placed in front of him, and he was gently caressing it with his fake hand, deep in his thoughts. Papa Daaé tried to teach him that song on the violin when he was yet a boy. He wasn't too much talented in music though, so he was never too successful with any kind of piece. Yet he was determined once he was going to learn that song.

Christine was away from Paris in the last two years. Raoul missed her very much, and even though he was happy and content with his family, as Yvette was the most loving wife ever, Sophie was an angel as a daughter and small Philippe gave him more and more happiness, having a son of his own finally, and they shared father and son programs a lot, Raoul still thought a lot of his childhood friend and first love. Christine was always an important person in his life, and her long absence from the city had made his heart grow fond of her, and wished to greet her again when she returns from London finally. They wrote letters to each other from time to time, yet they both were occupied mostly, but if they had some time to spare, they wrote about the happenings regarding their families and asked each other if they were doing well, and they always closed the letter with the small word "Love". They considered it as friendly love, of course, but the spirit of the childhood love still was buried in their hearts and souls.

Raoul wanted to learn the song on the violin to greet Christine back in Paris with it once she returns. He remembered some of Papa Daaé's instructions from his childhood and he closed his eyes to remember back the violin lessons at Perros. A deep sigh left his lips when he heard a soft knock.

He lifted his head up to see Yvette with him, and the woman smiled at him.

\- I am sorry to bother you, dear, but that gentleman who was here a few months back, had returned to see you. Should I send him away or are you fine with talking to him?

Raoul remembered the visit briefly, and he slightly nodded and told Yvette he will see the man. He walked to the main salon and the visitor was led in there a few minutes later. He received the visitor kindly, as usual, but he did not know what else he could do to the gentleman other than the service he had already done. Patiently he sat down in front of the newcomer who excitedly, but a bit of nervously took out a notepad and a pen from one of his pockets, then prepared to write with his short and thick fingers.

\- Monsieur, I am sorry I have to bother you yet again. – The man started talking. – But I would ask for your help one more time, and I do hope I don't have to return to ask you more questions.

\- I am not bothered by your questions, Monsieur, honestly. I help you the most I can, but I have to inform you maybe I am the person who knows the least of the subject you research. – Raoul answered with an honest smile.

\- I do know that you know little of that man, but I can't find anyone else who could answer me questions regarding the story and the man. I have more problems, to begin with.

\- List them, I try my best to answer.

\- At first, I questioned the Opera's managers and workers many times, I do believe I go on their nerves by this time, but I have to know… so, they say Christine Daaé was performing in the Opera after that evening when she was kidnapped. They say she just disappeared for a few months, but returned after, and was like usual. She married a man and gave birth to children but I am not sure where she is right now. They say she retired from the Opera House and now she is disappeared yet again.

\- She is in London with her family. – Raoul answered shortly. – One of her sons is a talented composer and performer and he made a career in England. – He added after a few moments of silence.

\- The last time we talked, you told me the story of Erik.

\- Yes, the few things I did know of him.

\- That's why I am here now. You see, I am trying to locate that man, but I found no trace, and neither could I find Christine's husband. In the Opera they said they hardly ever saw Christine in the company of her husband but they knew she had one. The man was very much separated from society and they kept saying he was home taking care of the house and children. Why would he do that?

\- I guess he wished Christine to rather focus on her career. – Raoul shrugged.

\- The few people who saw the man told me that he was a tall and thin man with longer brown hair and he wore glasses. It is not much. I was able to, at least get his name. Monsieur Spöke. But even that name has no other trace than an entry in the wedding section of the church registry of the Madeleine, and a worker at a building company. I found a man named E. A. Spöke, who worked as a structural engineer, and retired in 1887, but nothing else. Do you know where that man is from, or where could I find more information of him? Christine's past and present is full of mystery, I daresay. And what has happened to the Phantom?

\- The Phantom does not exist. – Raoul answered firmly. – It was just a tale that many of them, including me believed. It was just a series of well-played tricks by a miserable man.

\- Yet they were successful enough to keep a whole Opera House in terror. – The other man pointed out, while adjusting his glasses.

\- I would say it is better to leave the past just fly away. What would be the use of the whole story revealed, Monsieur?

\- People like stores like these. Full of mystery, passion, horror… I am planning to find out the real happenings back then. I believe I am maniac with this issue by now.

\- Just be careful Monsieur, as this is how madmen are born. – Raoul sighed, while having a sip of wine.

\- I am aware of that fact. – He smiled. – But I still wish to search more. Can you at least tell me where the monster is from?

\- Monsieur, you have to promise that if you find a trace you won't harm him.

\- So he isn't dead. – The man nodded contentedly. – Just as how I imagined.

Yes, it was a silly mistake to give it away like this. He unintentionally tried to protect the "monster" and Christine, but mostly Christine, from the fact that the past gets too much bothered. Thankfully Erik came up with an identity and it was hard to find out he was the Phantom. But what if this man finds out right now?

\- Promise, please. – He only replied that, not wanting to give away any more information accidentally.

\- I promise that if I find a trace and it ends up to be threatening… I am not going to publish anything… at least not until the man is alive.

\- That sounds much better. – Raoul nodded in relief. – Well, maybe what if I say nothing, but you may pretend things and I only say if that fact might be true or false. – He sighed. – I don't like to directly be a traitor.

\- I don't wish to bother you then, if you don't wish to speak. But can you at least tell me where can I find that man so I can ask him some questions?

\- I am not sure if he or she will like the fact to talk about the happenings so long time ago. But here is their current address in London… if you wish to travel miles for a story. – Raoul handed a small paper to the other man.

\- A journalist, Monsieur, travels through the whole world for an interesting story. – The man stood up and bowed his head with a smile. – Thank you for your cooperation, and I promise I will not disturb you again about this issue.

Raoul shook hands monotonously with the man while giving each other the usual parting formulas, and he sighed deeply. Here this man is again, not calming down. He hoped, as he sent him away the last time without any helpful information that his interest and the investigation will stop at a point but this journalist is so very determined. He just hoped the man won't cause Christine any discomfort or danger and maybe he won't find out much.

Shaking his head he went back to the study to look at the violin, praying for Christine in his mind.

While this scene took place in Paris, in London Christine was rocking the poor crying orphan in her arms, soothingly. Erik just stepped into the room to check on the boy, who was now fully conscious. Erik was happy for the positive change in boy's health, so he leaned closer with interest.

\- Oh, I see you woke up.

The boy heard a nice voice. He turned his head in the direction and noticed a lanky tall and thin man at the side of his bed. The man was too much an earthly figure to belong to the majestic land of Heaven, so he started considering the possibility of actually being alive. He usually was afraid of people, especially men, but the one stepped next to him sounded rather kind. He could not word why but the sound of his speaking voice calmed him for some reason. It sounded so sweetly soothing and unusually beautifully ringing in the air that he felt he had nothing to be afraid of. He nodded to the man's sentence, trying his best to smile which was hard because of the pain he was in.

\- How are you, boy? – Erik went on, sitting down next to Christine, examining the poor boy's injuries.

He now felt that his disability will humiliate him yet again, just as usual. This man was so nicely asking him something and he will be called rude in a few seconds because he won't tell him. He wished again if he could, praying God in his mind, but knew deep in his heart that it will never happen. He closed his eyes, slowly waiting for the cusswords he was sure going to receive.

\- What is wrong my dear? – Mother asked. – Are you feeling ill?

He nodded slightly and looked around with an expression begging for forgiveness. He hoped both Mother and the man will understand. Thankfully Erik did. Without a word he got a piece of paper and a pencil and put them on the boy's lap.

\- Can you write then? – He asked with a natural tone. Christine suddenly understood as well, and was surprised about Erik's lack of compassion. Why did he not sound touched at all by the fact that a poor child has no voice?

The boy nodded and with shaky hands tried to write:

" _I'm O.K. Thank you._ "

\- Fine. – Erik nodded. – And how should I call you?

The boy looked around nervously. He was called by many many names. The man could chose to call him "bastard" just as his last owner did. Or did he not ask it for a nickname? He really did not understand the question. Erik realized the boy's expression and with a deep sigh, he found a personality trait and situation which reminded him of young himself.

Suddenly he saw a blurry image of a woman at the market. The sun shone on her brown locks playfully and she was walking towards apples when his skeletal hand slipped in her clothing to search for her purse. And the delicate feminine hand caught his thin wrist and… with more things on her not too nicely sounding, but still kind voice, she asked: "What's your name?" And he did not have one to give. He literally knew no name he had…

Maybe this boy has no name either? Maybe if he tried to ask somehow else, he will understand.

\- What's your name?

He let out a relieved sigh and wrote:

" _Gregory._ "

\- Nice name. – Erik complimented, still with his most natural voice possible to disguise his real feelings. – And how old are you?

" _Seven._ "

\- Are you an orphan?

Only a nod came as a response. Christine looked at him with her eyes full of tears, but thankfully did not start to cry out loud or make comments full of pity.

\- Were you born like this? – Erik went on.

\- Erik, maybe he does not wish to tell yet… - Christine gasped softly.

The boy pointed at his throat questioningly to know if Erik was referring to his inability to speak. As Erik nodded, the pencil danced around on the paper obediently.

" _No. Drinking. Throat sore and burnt._ "

Erik instantly knew it was most likely some kind of acid that the boy either accidentally or willingly swallowed, and it damaged his vocal chords in a way which now makes him unable to speak. Luckily he can at least write at some level. He asked the boy where did it hurt and he listed his side and head to be the most painful.

\- All right, Gregory. Now I tell you where you are and what will happen to you. At first, you have to rest a lot as you are injured and need to get back to health. My wife and I are going to help you with that, and I have children who will also make you feel better. This sweet woman by your side is my wife, her name is Christine. If you need something she is more than happy to help. I will check on you more times a day and take care of your wounds and injuries. You are going to receive meals and medications more times a day and if you feel well enough to be up, we will talk about the rest. Does it sound good enough to you?

Erik did not want to sound too compassionate or show pity. He choose to converse with the boy as he was a business partner as he did not really wish to consider him as a family member yet. He was surprised of himself that he would totally not have helped the boy twenty years before. Or… would he not…? Really?

From his deepest musings a touch made him get to his senses. Gregory was poking his fingers to draw his attention. With a questioning look he stared at the child, who pointed at the last line on the paper which said:

 _"_ _What's your name, Sir?"_

\- Erik. – He replied shortly.

The boy gave him a small smile and wrote:

 _"_ _Thank you, Erik."_

He shrugged and nodded quickly, informed the injured child that he should rest, then he turned away to leave the room to see what was happening to his children. It was already time to wake them and see if they were all right as well, help Belle get dressed, prepare breakfast for them, see Florian's calendar, give daily schoolwork for the boys and check their homework, feed Monsieur Lechat, answer Belle's endless questions about various subjects, especially horses, and maybe have a few spare minutes to sit down and drink coffee without any of the children wanting something of him. Possibly that was the time when he had to deal with the Daroga instead of the kids, but thankfully he learned to cope with the Persian well enough during those past decades. He was surprised to calculate that they met over 40 years ago. It was long enough time for a marriage.

He did not wish to think too much of Gregory yet, but get himself buried in daily routine, to clean his mind about the subject.

Time will solve things and life must go on.


	70. Chapter 70

Life must go on. But can it, after such happenings which took place on that night? Can people forget about a sin, however the sinner meant well by it?

\- Did you punish him yet? – Erik heard a voice behind his back, when he wanted to sit down tiredly in his chair with a glass of wine to relax in an evening, some days after Gregory's identity was discovered and the boy was still in bed, healing. At first, he did not even know who the "him" was the voice was referring to, but after a few seconds, he only gave a deep sigh, informing the inquisitive the family member about he did not. – Several days passed. – The voice went on. – When will you finally teach him about what he did was unacceptable? It is slowly forgotten as I see.

\- What on Earth should I do to him? – Erik retorted wearily. It was a long day, in which he had to take care of the family and help Christine and Mahtab to nurse Gregory. He really wasn't in the mood for talking, especially not about Mahtab's murderous behavior.

\- You are the father. – The Daroga pointed at him. – You should punish him.

\- Right. And what? Shall I lay him across my knees and spank a 17 year old? Or do I need to stand him to face the wall in the corner until he promises not to do something like this again?

\- At least make him realize it was not the right thing to do. – He crossed his arms on his chest.

\- I talked to him before.

\- I heard it. Erik, I know you mean well, but you did not do anything else than encouraging him and telling him it was not a big deal. It was murder, for the beard of the Prophet!

\- If someone hits a fly, or kills a flea, you should whine and howl as well for that, with this logic. That pest wasn't any better than a filthy rat everyone wants to see dead.

\- Erik, it is not your or Mahtab's job to measure a human's value and it is not your job to eliminate the human if you don't find it worthy for life. If things worked this way, you know what would have happened to some other people as well…

\- Which nearly did happen, in the end, and I know well that that certain person worth nothing more than a disgusting rat in the eyes of not only human kind, but himself as well, thank you. And now, are you happier you keep nagging that person in his seventies, for something he committed fifty years ago?

\- The latest issues of that person weren't that long ago. – The Daroga leaned closer. - And don't try to avoid getting to the point by making others pity you, describing yourself as a helpless old person. Do you remember the Phantom of the Opera? Do you want Mahtab to be the new one?

\- Daroga… must you always dwell on my past, I dwell on it enough, thank you. I am an old man with returning seizures and joint pain. Sometimes I have to help my left hand to act by lifting it up by the aid of my right to drink a glass of wine, or to adjust my glasses. I don't like to say it, but I am seriously afraid of the future that I won't be able to survive long enough to raise Belle. And here you come and nag me about the fucking Phantom of the Opera.

The Daroga waved in the air in frustration, and wished to continue his speech when suddenly they heard some footsteps and someone gasped in shock behind their back. They both turned around to see Mahtab standing in the doorway, looking their way with growing suspicion. He took a few steps towards Erik and leaned close to him, directly making eye contact. Erik said nothing. The child had already heard too much, and he just hoped he did not hear and know more than thee Daroga's foggy hints.

\- The Phantom of the Opera? – Mahtab repeated loudly, tasting the words. Maybe he had heard those words before. – Are you the Phantom of the Opera…?

\- He was just using it as a metaphor. – Erik spoke finally, but his words could not convince Mahtab.

He slowly sat down to the chair, facing Erik, and looked at him curiously. It noticeable he was wondering about something. He scratched his head again and again, and finally he started speaking.

\- I remember an episode. Mystic. It happened long time ago, but sometimes I can see it happening in my dreams… and I wonder if I just dreamed it as a child, or it really happened. I was very small yet. You wanted to leave Mama and me and Flo. Flo was yet a baby. You wanted to leave and I cried. You took me with you… - He paused for a few seconds, researching his memory, then went on. – The Opera house's cellar was very dark and you said darkness was our friend. It helps us. Us, creatures… to hide. Were you referring to my fate? As yours?

Erik refused to reply as Mahtab was starting to revive memories which were unpleasant for him to recall. He hoped if he does not give responses, Mahtab was going to guess it was just a dream, as he thankfully wasn't a hundred percent sure.

\- Mahtab… what are you talking about? – The Daroga leaned closer to the child worriedly.

Mahtab forgot about intonation and voice techniques, so he again slipped into her soprano natural voice range, and sounded like the helpless girl she sometimes felt like.

\- There is water under the Opera and I nearly died in it.

\- You have a voice like this? – Erik smiled, closing his eyes dreamily. – You sound like your mother… you remind me of her.

\- Did you hear me? I said I nearly died when I slipped into an underground lake under the Opera. Is it true?

\- You can't possibly remember… - Erik stated, rather to himself than to Mahtab.

\- I will never forget that. – Mahtab replied. – It was scary. That black and foul tasting water.

\- You dreamed it. – Erik shook his head.

\- No. I was afraid of water for a time in my childhood until you taught me to swim. Because of that memory.

\- You… slipped in the tub once when you were small. – Erik lied quickly. – That is why you were afraid of water. The rest is just a dream.

\- How could I dream about the cellars of the Opera when I did not even know about it? – He pointed out.

\- You have a lively imagination. Do you remember the time when you kept talking to an invisible friend of yours?

\- I had to because you killed Cadence.

\- God, do you still remember that pile of gears?

\- Cadence was my first friend, I will never forget her.

\- People keep telling that you may do whatever you want to a child until the age of 4, because they will never remember back to the time when they grow up. And here you are, listing all your childhood traumas. – Erik shook his head in dismay.

Erik fell silent, and so did Mahtab for a time. Erik was wondering how on Earth his son can have such a memory, when he suddenly realized he had the same kind of ability to recall very early pictures and happenings as well. Maybe Mahtab was alike him in this aspect too, to his own unlucky turn of events.

Several of the early and way later memories hit him, while he was trying to chase them away, but they hit him like a wave. Mother was crying, throwing a mask at him, he was squeezing a dead dog, he was rocking a beautiful Persian angel in his arms, there was a fire, a huge fire in the workshop- It wasn't me… No, it wasn't me… his hands around Annabelle's neck… Christine with bloody forehead, Mahtab in the lake…

\- And there was a bell… ringing… and you said you had to go to feed the… I don't know… some sea creature. Siren…? Yes… You told me to watch over invisible dragon eggs. Tonton… is Papa the Phantom of the Opera and did he… kill people? Were you going to murder someone when you did not want me to go with you?

A bell ringing…? Erik stared at Mahtab with glassy eyes, then, instead of a reply, he softly started reciting a poem:

 _Gay go up, and gay go down,_

 _To ring the bells of London town._

 _Bull's eyes and targets,_

 _Say the bells of St. Marg'ret's._

\- Erik…! – The Daroga tried to communicate, but Erik seemingly did not hear him.

 _Brickbats and tiles,_

 _Say the bells of St. Giles'._

 _Halfpence and farthings,_

 _Say the bells of St. Martin's._

\- Papa, what has happened…? – Mahtab knelt down to make eye contact, but Erik stared to the rug under his feet.

 _Oranges and lemons,_

 _Say the bells of St. Clement's._

 _Pancakes and fritters,_

 _Say the bells of St. Peter's._

 _Two sticks and an apple,_

 _Say the bells at Whitechapel._

\- Erik, stop it, I know you can hear me. – The Daroga shook Erik by the shoulder, but the old man did not react, like he always did when he was only pretending to be a lunatic to avoid confrontations and questionings. The annoying rhyme was going on.

 _Old Father Baldpate,_

 _Say the slow bells at Aldgate._

 _You owe me ten shillings,_

 _Say the bells at St. Helen's._

 _Pokers and tongs,_

 _Say the bells at St. John's._

 _Kettles and pans,_

 _Say the bells at St. Ann's._

 _When will you pay me?_

 _Say the bells of Old Bailey._

 _When I grow rich,_

 _Say the bells of Shoreditch._

 _Pray when will that be?_

 _Say the bells of Stepney._

 _I am sure I don't know,_

 _Says the great bell of Bow._

Erik suddenly stood up surprisingly quickly and forcefully compared to his usual state of health and physical pain. He lifted both of his hands up to his temples, with bowed fingers, looking around in the room questioningly. Mahtab worriedly put his hands on Erik's shoulders to sit him back down, petting his hair. Erik seemingly did not protest, but lifted his head up to look at the Daroga, and sent a glance full of hatred towards him, while he went on with the last lines of the rhyme, now singing:

 _Here comes a candle to light you to bed,_

 _And here comes a chopper to chop off your head_

He then suddenly pointed at the Daroga while he sang the last four words of the song, indicating that he was going to chop the Persian's head off in any seconds. Mahtab pushed him down gently but firmly, trying to avoid he will really make up to his promise.

The Persian was trying to find a way to make Erik come to his common sense again, and was terribly alarmed it won't easily happen, if at all. He walked to the bathroom to get some water while warning Mahtab to stay by Erik's side and not to let him get up. The poor teen felt terrible because of his father's mental state, but after the song ended Erik actually did nothing frightening. He only sat in silence, seemingly not paying attention to Mahtab or the Daroga who arrived back with a huge glass of water.

\- Erik, are you all right? – He inquired cautiously, gently handing the glass to the ex-Phantom, but all of a sudden it flew back at him, making him all wet and shattered glass appeared in front of his feet in a blink of an eye.

\- Papa, please… - Mahtab gasped in horror, while trying to calm Erik, at least somewhat, as Erik's thin skeletal hands had already clutched against the Persian's wrist. – Papa… sit down, right? Sit... Papa… it is me, Mahtab. – The teen was desperately trying to drag Erik back into reality, while both he and the Daroga were desperately fighting to be freed from his deadly grip.

Erik said nothing, but his eyes gave away that he wasn't thinking. He did not know where he was, he only knew he was in some kind of danger as hands were trying to restrain him, and he hated it more than anything. His brain shut down, fleeing from bad memories, protecting himself from them, and he was now only fighting for survival.

The door opened and some noise could be heard. Some noise which was firstly not recognized by any of the people there, as it was so soft. Those small feet weren't making too much noise as they crossed the room, and only when the Daroga cried out in horror, did Mahtab turn his head to face the newcomer as well. The small child was looking at them with a bit of confusion and puzzle, and she played with the hem of her dress, trying to figure out what on Earth was going on. She had never seen Papa playing this strange game, and why is everyone so scared?

\- Allah, Belle, go away from here! Go back to bed! – Tonton Mohammed seemed to be so horrified. Why should she go away from her Papa, when he loves her?

\- Papa…! What are you playing with Tonton and Mahtab? Can I play too?

\- Belle! – Mahtab turned around to gently push the child away from danger, as she was walking closer and closer.

\- Why can't I play? – She tilted her head to the side. – I can't sleep. Please Papa, let me play or sing me a song!

\- I shall sing for you. – Mahtab picked the young girl up from the ground, sending a worried glance towards the struggling Mohammed, but as the man nodded in hurry, Mahtab did what he had to do more urgently: carrying his little sister away from a hazardous situation.

Thankfully Belle did not force on the subject more, but let herself to be put to bed and she fall back asleep by the time Mahtab sang her a lullaby. After the teen made sure Belle was sound asleep, he hurried back to the living room where he saw a scene which made his heart break for poor Papa.

The Daroga was tidying his clothing and massaged his wrist and shoulders, while Erik was laying on the floor motionless, facing the floor. Christine was also there, holding a pan in her right, sighing in frustration. Her face was pale, but her eyes were shining with anger.

\- Don't lay him in a bed with me. – She pointed at Erik with a hint of disgust. – Put him down somewhere and… just we should hope he stops acting up. I am fed up with these crazy murderers…! I am fed up.

She hurried out of the room with the pan, but Mahtab heard nothing of the words which followed Christine's leaving. He had heard enough. He slowly knelt down by Erik's side, turned him to face the ceiling, and started stroking his bald head by his thumb. He did not pay attention to the Daroga who warned him several times not to go too close to Erik. He was sobbing and softly whispering.

\- We are alike, Papa… too much alike… and I love you.

Yes. These crazy murderers… in plural… were the ones who could not fit in a normal family ever. Mahtab was sure Papa would be heartbroken if he knew he nearly hurt Belle and he was violent towards Tonton. And Mahtab had killed that man. No matter what Papa said, Mama did not forgive him about it. He was now labelled as a crazy murderer… which he most likely really was, as normal people really don't kill. He was taught by a whole lifetime not to kill, and Papa also said he was supposed to use the Punjab string only in life threatening situations… and yet his first choice was to kill the man.

A crazy murderer's son is another crazy murderer… just the perfect couple.

\- Mahtab… your mother is tired and confused she did not mean it. – Mohammed placed a hand on the crying child's shoulder, but Mahtab only shook his head and hugged his passed out father.

If the world hates them, they should at least love each other, as they did before. Mahtab knew Papa was the one person he loved the most in his life, and he will love him, even if he was crazy. Even if he murdered people. Even if he was the Phantom of the Opera… it does not matter. He is only Papa to him.

Some moments later the door reopened and Christine walked in with a wet cloth, and penitently walked by the side of Erik and Mahtab. She instantly felt sorry for the awful words which left her lips, and she was crying hard by the time she noticed how she made her own child suffer with guilt. Without a word, she knelt down to Mahtab and hugged him, kissed his skull like forehead and face more and more times.

\- Forgive me… forgive me Mahtab… you are my darling… I love you… I did not mean…

\- It is a luck Papa did not hear it. – Mahtab sniffed. – Mama… don't you hate me…?

\- I was angered by Papa's sudden behavior and… I said things I did not mean, Mahtab… please forgive me.

\- And do you not hate Papa? – He went on, desperately questioning his mother.

\- I love him more than anything. – Christine swallowed back some tears and wiped Erik's forehead by the cloth.

\- Christine…? - Erik opened his eyes and looked at both Mahtab and his wife. He realized he was on the floor, so he asked. – Why am I laying here? Why are you crying…? Both of you…?

Christine knew well that it wasn't the best idea to tell the happenings to a seventy year old mentally unstable and physically ill person, as it would make him feel extra guilty, and might even easily kill him. She only hoped an episode like this won't happen again. She just closed her eyes for a few seconds, then smiled through her tears, leaning towards Erik and kissed his cheeks.

\- You had a seizure again and we are just relieved you came to your senses.

\- Oh… only that? – Erik sighed in relief.

Christine, while Mahtab and she were helping Erik up and guiding him to the master bedroom to put him to bed, was silently crying, being heartbroken about the fact that Erik got so much used to epileptic seizures that he replies by a shrug and an "only that?" question… Oh God, she can't possibly stay angry with him. Not now. And the truth is she really loves him. No matter what. And she would like to bite her tongue off for the evil sentences she said earlier. She also thanked God that Erik did not hear that. It is a huge enough problem that Mahtab did…

Oh dear sweet Mahtab.

Mahtab, after they put Papa to bed and finally he was alone, swore in his mind many times that he will never again force the subject of the lake under the Opera House in Paris, and he will most definitely never ever say the words "the Phantom of the Opera" out loud in front of his father. Maybe that was going to help and prevent happenings like this.

Yet he did not have to be in doubt for a long time about the Phantom story.

Mama, after everyone else was asleep, knocked on his door and told him they needed to talk. She smiled at him, and offered she was going to tell him a bedtime story, just like when he was a small child. Mahtab curiously nodded and lay down on his bed, just like at the old times. Christine sat down on the bedside, and smiling, she started.

\- Do you remember the time when I told you the story of Little Lotte?

\- And the Angel of Music? – Mahtab asked.

\- Yes. – She nodded with a knowing smile. – And I told you I had met that angel.

\- Yes, but I never knew what you meant by it. The musical talent you have?

\- Partly. – She admitted. – But the truth is I physically met my Angel of Music. And I finally married him.

\- Papa? Papa is the Angel of Music?

\- Papa had more names in the past. – Christine started the explanation. – The one only Tonton and I used back then, was Erik. Another name of his, when we had music lessons, was the Angel of Music.

\- And now do you tell me how you two met finally? – Mahtab got excited. – I asked Papa as well, but he only replied in one sentence, that he tutored you in singing.

\- He does not like to talk about his past. Which is understandable. Now, I tell you the truth as I consider you old enough to know it. But you should promise you won't tell it to your younger siblings and won't mention it to Papa either. He is an old man, and too much excitement does not do him good. And these subjects make him upset.

\- I promise. – Mahtab nodded.

And then, with a final nod, Christine started telling the old story of the man, who had so many names he could not even count. And one of these names was The Phantom of the Opera.


	71. Chapter 71

After Mahtab heard the truth about his parent's relationship, he did not become disgusted or frightened as one would have imagined. No. Mahtab, for a reason, felt some otherworldly calm and peace with himself. He always wished to learn how Papa learned to deal with his disfigurement and wanted to find out if he ever committed any sins because he was not like others. Just as Papa said, with this looks you can't always avoid killing someone. And that is what Mahtab felt mostly as well. Even though he was raised in a normal family and his close environment accepted him as he was, he knew that without his disguise people hated him. Many times he had an occasion to experience endless hatred and disgust towards him, when he wasn't wearing anything to cover his face as a child. This is why Papa and Mama kept him protected and mostly locked up, to prevent such catastrophes, or even bigger ones to happen. Yet he did not find all of the answers to calm him. He felt Papa even more relatable and sympathetic than ever before. He did not know why, but he always tended to love his father way more than Mama, even though Mama was very dear to him as well. Christine was like a beautiful and kind angel to him, but Papa was the one he could talk about anything. But he needed to know one more thing: how did he survive a childhood with his face? What his relationship was like with his parents? He never knew of his grandparents, only one thing was sure: Papa did not like his mother for sure.

Thankfully Erik was all better by the next day. He seemed to be in perfect health compared to his age. He went on and about, doing his everyday tasks which he would not allow for anyone else to do other than him, because whoever did it instead of him, he was never content with the outcome and would always redo it, no matter how well it was done, so others would eventually give up on doing it instead of him. Mahtab knew that Papa did not like to talk about his childhood, but after he got to know about the Phantom story and his father's earlier life, he needed to know this one slice of his past as well to close up the chapter and could be able to settle all his emotions. They had an issue to talk about yet.

Erik was sitting at his desk, writing Mathematical problems for Flo and Noel as a homework, when Mahtab stepped behind his back and slowly walked next to him.

\- Papa, may we talk a bit? – He started.

\- Mhm. – Erik nodded and lifted his head up. – What is wrong, Mahtab?

Mahtab did not answer right away but sat down in a chair, facing Erik. From this fact the old man knew there was something more serious his son wished to discuss.

\- Look Papa, before I start, please promise you won't get angry at Mama or me. Please don't work yourself up, and promise you won't tell Mama I told you she told me what I tell you, but she told me not to tell you that she told me…

\- Oh ho, stop. – Erik laughed out. – Son, I am getting old for these kinds of riddles. Who told what to whom?

\- Mama told me about your life… and about the Phantom. Papa, I had to know…

\- You did. – Erik nodded slowly. – Well… you have the right to know it, Mahtab. It is not that I did not wish to tell you eventually… it was just a bit hard for me to talk about the past I would mostly like to forget and keep it as a secret even from myself. I am happy your mother took the burden off of my shoulders. I guess you are old enough now. And now, what do you wish to talk about?

\- Mama did not know enough to tell me much about the life you had with… the same features of me. I am curious of your early life Papa. What was your relationship like with your parents?

\- Oh, dear, you are… asking painful questions. Yet I see the reason behind them. Well, you have the right to know this as well, but I have conditions.

\- I do whatever you wish me to.

\- At first… I am going to tell you my story, but you shall not tell it to the children or Tonton Mohammed or not even Mama. She knows what she needs to know. And you, my child, are the only person who shares my fate. You understand clearly. Maybe I should have told you earlier… so you'd have understood why we kept you so much separated from the world until we found a good way to cover your face. But I always considered you too young to learn such things, and I did not wish you to face the negative side of your appearance- I did not realize that you could never be too young to face reality. As I had a bad childhood, at least, I wanted to spare my own child from hatred and being an outcast. But I could not protect you from everything, and you know exactly what you have to get through with a deformity like ours.

\- Papa, you did your best and you are the best father I could ask for. – Mahtab caressed Erik's bony hand with so much affection it nearly sent Erik to tears.

\- If you promise, my dear, that it will stay between us, I admit you were always the one I loved the most from among my children. I know a parent should not have a favorite child, but I can't help but have one.

\- Really? – Mahtab smiled widely.

\- Yes. – Erik nodded.

\- Maybe it is because of I look like you?

\- No. Definitely not… though… it adds to the whole picture for sure.

\- So… what was your childhood like Papa? Did people hurt you a lot?

\- Well… it will be easier for me if you don't ask questions. I tell you what I find important, but you listen through it without questions… deal?

\- Deal, Papa.

\- So… at first, I don't know much of my parent's earlier life. Mother's name was Geneviéve and Father's name was Maurice. All I know of him is he was a contractor. I've never met him. He was much older than my Mother, and… well, I still don't know the truth about this happening. Mother told me different versions of the happenings. There were times she informed me about he died BEFORE my birth. There were times when she told me he collapsed dead when I arrived to the world, as his heart stopped the very moment he saw me.

Mahtab gasped a bit, but did not wish to interrupt Erik, but he felt so much pain upon hearing this variation.

\- And the last version I know of is that he abandoned us after he saw my face for the first time. Honestly, son, I don't know which is the best version, but I'd rather believe the first than the two latter, yet those two are more likely. Anyway… contrary to your beliefs I wasn't an only child. I had a sibling.

At this point Erik had to pour himself a glass of wine and he nervously took a sip.

\- At first… she was born. She looked beautiful and she was dead as a door nail. Which, of course, did not make me anymore popular in the eyes of my mother. If it is true, I caused two deaths at the moment of my birth, which is exactly two more deaths than I should have caused in a lifetime. Anyway… to answer you, our relationship with Mother wasn't the best. She had depression and used to blame me for everything bad happening in her life, even before my birth. We lived in a nicely furnished house in that village near Rouen, only the three of us… Mother, Bisous and me. Bisous was her lap dog. She… adored it. It was her child instead of me. Well… mostly Mother just ignored me. If I committed something, she hit me, but it hurt me a lot more that she cried so much, and I exactly knew those tears were because of me. No one came to visit us, other than my Uncle I had never met in my life. When he was visiting I was kept in the cellar of the house with just the necessities I needed to survive. Uncle and the other family members thought I did not exist, only the stillborn girl. Mother said she did not have any other children. I was denied, wasn't talked about among the relatives. So… she was ashamed of me. Bisous received all of the love in her heart which she would have shown to her child if it happened to be born like everyone else. One day when I was around 8 years old… I got jealous of Bisous and I could not… get over it. I ended up committing my first murder I wanted to do in my life. I thought Mother will love me if Iwill have no rival.

\- Interesting. – Mahtab muttered. – You wanted to do the same with Raoul.

\- You know about that as well. Great. – Erik moaned, taking another sip of wine.

\- I am sorry Papa. And… what had happened after?

\- Mother, of course… wasn't happy about it. I received a beating I will never forget, but her words were much more painful. She called me…

\- A crazy murderer?

\- Yes. – Erik nodded, softly and brokenly whispering. – She did. This is why I ran away from home.

\- Did you run away from home as well?

\- Yes… I did. I did not want to cause trouble at home.

Mahtab remembered back the time he thought the same after the scarlet fever he accidentally stuck on Erik. He now understood why Erik wanted to spank him after he returned home. He reminded him of his earlier life and was a fraid Mahtab will disappear forever and end up like him. Erik had another glass of wine then continued:

\- Living on the streets for a child under 10 isn't the most comfortable thing on Earth, you know. I had no food and no money and wasn't yet this much experienced as I am now. If that gypsy caravan did not appear after some weeks of wandering, I know I would have died on the fields.

\- Did the gypsies hurt you?

\- No. They feared me in a way, but did not beat me. I think they did not dare to. Gypsies are very much superstitious, I believe, they thought me some kind of supernatural being. I was too much of an oddity and they liked that I made money for them on markets. I learned to do many tricks, and I could always do ventriloquism. It was actually the best two years I have spent with them. After I turned 10, however, everything changed. People started to frighten each other in the villages we crossed with me. And finally they told the gypsies as well to get rid of me as fast as they could. At first, they did not want to. I was a great way to earn money and people did not dare to attack the caravan for the mere fact I was there. Back then, Mahtab, I knew nothing of how to kill someone, they feared me only for my looks. So, I was, in a way, protecting them. Some of them even said I bring luck to the camp. Of course, when things go right, something must happen. People were telling ominous little tales about the lucky charm might once as well bring extremely bad luck… which had happened. You have to understand, Mahtab, that if people live in a small colony, and if an epidemic starts, and especially if they don't pay enough attention to wash their hands, the illness is going to spread quickly. One day it is only a few people are ill, and in a blink of an eye you see half of the camp with the same symptoms, or dead on the floor. It was an extremely contagious illness going around and I was nearly the only one without noticeable symptoms. This made people think I made the catastrophe and I was immune to it.

\- God. And what had happened…?

\- I had to flee as they… wanted to choose which the solution at a smaller uneducated group was always: eliminate the source.

\- Did they want to kill you?

\- Yes, as they hoped it will stop the illness. So I ran away. Later, of course, I got sick as well, it just took the illness a few days before it came out on me. I was wandering alone, but thankfully I only had a bit of fever and some stomach problems I was able to handle. I eventually got better and wandered on the streets yet again.

\- And what happened?

\- You know, for a time I learned to live on my own. I did pickpocket people or stole food, so I wasn't hungry and I always found a place to sleep. Yes, I started to go down the hill. But I could have been saved if… well, so one day I chose a woman to pickpocket on the streets. I was in Germany, as I was going around Europe, looking at the famous touristic sights and buildings. She caught me, as I, for a reason wasn't careful enough that time, or she just had great reflexes, I don't know. So, she caught my wrist and looked down at me. The expression in her eyes made me ashamed: she wasn't angry, I could see compassion on her face. She was the first person on Earth that actually felt sorry for me. So, she just asked if I was hungry and if I had a place to stay for the night. She did not seem to care about the mask. As it turned out, she was an angel, and the wife of a German smith. They lived in a nice house and the man had a workshop. He was looking for an aid, so his wife was begging him to take me as an aid so they could help me. The man was a bit of frightening to me at first, he did not talk much, and he was eyeing me with a hint of bitterness. As I later found out, they had had a son earlier who died at an early age and the smith was angry at each and every child that survived their son by only a year. Yet I was a great aid. I did everything I was told and I could work instead of two, so he ended up liking me. He even yelled at the people who were mocking me for my mask. They did never want to find out why I wore it. They respected my will not to remove it. I was around twelve years old when I received my name from this couple actually. The poor woman started calling me Erik, after the memory of their dead son.

\- Wasn't Erik your original name? - Mahtab gasped.

\- I had no name in my childhood. – Erik shook his head. – Erik was the first human name one had ever called me by. I was happy to receive a name finally and this is, among the many aliases I was ever listed under, the first, and my most favorite as it was given to me by love.

\- And did they raise you?

\- Oh no. – Erik sighed and shook his head. – Even though Herr Schulz received many unkind letters and had to argue with the villagers about the strange masked kid, he was surprisingly protective of me and said "Whoever hurts Erik will receive a tombstone." He was a tall, strong and huge man, as any of the smiths, he was able to lift me by the ear anytime, yet I was strong as well by that time, so they were afraid of him. But… no person lives forever. When I was twelve years old, he died of an illness I wasn't able to cure, yet I was trying. So… he passed away and gave me a watch to keep. This was my inheritance.

\- Your watch you still use?

\- Yes. – Erik nodded. – This is why I engraved "always exact" in it. The last words I heard from him were "A good technician is always exact."

\- I thought it was merely referring to the timeliness of the watch itself.

\- Partly, but it has a deeper meaning for me as you see. – He took another sip of wine than sighed deeply.

\- And what happened to the woman, Papa?

\- Well, I am trying to tell you this… so after the man was buried I stayed alone with the poor woman. She wished me to work in the workshop instead of her husband, but as you might have figured out, villagers weren't too happy taking their horses in a workshop with a strange and too young masked kid in it, no matter how I already had the needed craftsmanship to work on my own. At first it was just we lacked clients. I could earn nothing, and… so we could have nothing to eat really. I wasn't concerned for myself mostly, but the poor woman. I simply could not let her starve, so I did what I had trained myself to do earlier: I stole food for us from around the village. Of course, this did not make people happy. Not enough I was a frightening thing, now I was a thief as well. And of course, every sin has its punishment.

At this point Erik lowered his head as he nearly started crying, but he fought back the urge to do so finally.

\- Angry people came at a night and they set the workshop on fire. Everything burnt down no matter how I tried to put out the flames. Of course, it was because of me, and the worst thing is I could not save her.

\- Did she…?

\- Yes. – Erik nodded.

\- In the fire?

\- No. – Erik whispered. – They threw stones because she wanted to protect me from them. To tell the truth… we wanted to protect each other. I was wounded… and she was dead.

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply from the bottom of his heart.

\- They did it because of my face, Mahtab, and only then I learned I bring misfortune to people. They haven't seen my face even. But I wasn't like them.

\- So this is why you told me people might kill me.

\- Yes. Or… someone close to us. This is why we need to hide.

\- And what had happened after? – Mahtab asked, half sadly, half curiously.

\- This is where my childhood ended. – Erik replied monotonously. – You asked about my childhood. I became a man after this. A boy grows up when they take care of themselves all alone without any help. And I wish not to talk about more.

\- I understand Papa, I am sorry. – Mahtab hugged him. – But I need to know one more thing.

\- Which is…?

\- Papa, after knowing how your childhood was, and… knowing that someone with a face like this might most likely suffer a lot… what was your first thought upon seeing me as a baby? – Mahtab muttered in front of himself.

\- I was happy for you. – Erik said quickly.

\- Papa. Please be honest. – Mahtab put his skeletal hand on his father's shoulder. – Papa, tell me what you felt and when did you start liking me. Did you… wish me dead instead?

\- Why do you ask such things, Mahtab? Why do you have to bother the past?

\- I have to know. – He begged for an answer.

\- At first I felt pity. Ity, guilt and self- loathing. I thought I should have never had a child. – Erik spoke slowly. – You were a few months old by the time I was able to accept the fate awaiting us. But Mahtab, you have to know I don't regret fathering you the least now. I love you no matter what, and since you are in my life I learned to accept my own face better as well. I no more cringe when I look into a mirror, and I never cringed upon seeing your features. I learned to love a face my mother could not. And it was never ugly for me. I am merely worried for the fact that people won't accept you, and sometimes I really fear what will happen to you if I pass away.

\- Oh Papa, you won't. – Mahtab kissed Erik's head. – I love you and will make sure to keep you safe.

\- Oh, dear. – Erik laughed out. – You do plan to keep me under a glass shield, or what?

\- I am going to find out a potion that will keep you alive forever. – He sighed dreamily.

\- Oh ho, well, you have an imagination, clearly. – Erik smiled warmly. – Exactly like when you were a toddler. Once you climbed on my lap when you were around three years old, and proudly stated you were going to make it possible for people to fly in the air like birds, because you hated to walk for long.

\- I don't remember that. – Mahtab laughed.

\- I do. – Erik stroke his child's hair with love. – As I do remember everything you did say or do. You were a cute child. Always in my heels.

Father and son found a perfect harmony between their souls. There were no other questions Mahtab wanted to ask about the past and acceptance. One can't change society, but a father can always grow to love a child- no matter what.


	72. Chapter 72

The family lived as usual after some days passed since Erik's sudden mental breakdown, and after he finally found inner peace about his past when confessing how his childhood went to Mahtab. It was a huge stone that fell off of his heart, as he really wanted to share his deepest secrets and fears about his childhood to someone, but he always feared to tell. Christine, his sweet Christine, though she was his wife for 21 years already, she still seemed to be so fragile, yet she could be, of course, an incredibly strong woman if she wanted, but one can never know with her. That angel could not handle such a childhood, such stories as he had to tell… Christine still could cry over an injured animal, even that. How could a man of so much sufferings then, list a lifetime of horrors to give her endless nightmares and sorrow? She would have died if she had to hear. Even those bits of crumbs she received so far, were already too much for her sometimes. But Mahtab was so mature, so understanding! He felt relieved that the teen learned about it, and seemingly accepted the story and believed him when he stated he no longer felt he shouldn't have fathered a child. It was also a matter they had to discuss once- his feelings about the little baby Mahtab, the feelings and thoughts he had buried deep in his soul, long long time ago, because he felt it as a shame in these days, but indeed, these feelings were crucial to Mahtab's development and a step to accept himself. Yet Erik was happy Mahtab still did not know about everything. There were parts of his past he never wished to reveal- For example what REALLY happened in Persia, or that Belle wasn't Mahtab's real sister. They should never know the truth about that child.

Speaking of Belle, she was already a small lady. It was strange for Erik to have a daughter in his family, a daughter who actually acts like a girl and does not want herself to be referred as "he". Belle was fond of everything a girl can be fond of – tea parties with dolls, nice clothes, jewelry, make up accessories and ballerinas. She already had long hair falling down to her waist which Christine loved to brush for her. Christine, even though she was against the idea for a time, finally allowed Belle to have her nails polished by the time she turned 4 years old, even though she still considered the young girl too small for that, and only allowed her to wear make-up at home. She owned many dresses and she adored to wear them, dressing up for every possible occasion, even if she wasn't yet taken to social events by the family, she though, did own tea gowns and even had a ball gown she adored. Others might have had the opinion that Belle was a bit of spoiled- which was partly true. Christine adored to have a small daughter and she taught her how to act like a woman, which she so wished to do with Mahtab earlier, and finally had a real girl in the house, which made her pleased, and maybe this made her allow things to Belle she would not have allowed earlier. And Erik, surprisingly, wasn't as much consistent and strict with Belle as he was with the boys. Boys will be boys, they need to be handled more strictly, they tend to talk back, they are more likely to break rules. A girl is mostly shy, meek, polite and does not need to be lectured seven times a day, so Erik, when talking to Belle, could finally relax a bit and save his energies for later. He would allow the young girl more things as well, and say "if she does not hurt anyone with it, why not", so he wasn't bothered by make up or expensive clothes for the lady. Though Belle, as all of the other children, did receive lectures or punishments if she deserved them, which was a rare occasion, so she wasn't really that much "spoiled". She was only raised by a mother who yearned for a daughter for too long, and an old and partly tired and apathetic father, who liked to avoid conflicts, which was hard with two teen boys.

Belle had a talent which surprised her family by the time she grew old enough to show it. She loved poems and would adore to hear her mother or any older sibling reciting a poem for her, and she was a very fast learner. She could tell a poem by heart she heard for two or three times, no matter how long it was. Erik was glad for this ability and talent, teaching proudly The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe to Belle, who told Papa the long poem not even knowing what she said. Christine was a bit of worried she might be a bit too young for such a poem, but Belle seemed to like it a lot, especially because Papa praised her so heartfelt about being so clever to memorize such a difficult and long text. Christine found out that Belle also liked to hear about the stories of operas. She at first told the story of The Magic Flute, and showed her the music, but Belle was more into the lyrics and the script than music. She started to entertain herself by making small scenarios which she played with her toys. These mini plays included many things she heard from stories and opera plots, so they ended up being interesting enough to the point it was funny. The only problem was that she could not really play them for anyone in the house. Papa was away for most of the day, and so were the boys, and even if Noel and Flo were home, they were too busy for her. Noel would always study physics or such nonsense, and Flo was in love with his violin, and would always say "Later, Belle, I am busy." Later never came, because if he wasn't playing the violin or reading music, he left to give concerts or attend social events with Papa, so the only one she could show her plays was Mahtab. Mahtab was the oldest though, and he would sometimes point out flaws of the story Belle was too young to consider, so she did not really like to play for Mahtab, as he was too picky. Noel was the worst audience, though, as he would just simply say "Leave me alone with this stupidity, I have to study."

One time when Belle was again chased away by Noel and she was holding her doll sadly, she suddenly noticed Gregory standing in the doorway. Gregory now was well enough to be up and about, so he just wandered along the house sometimes. He was amazed by the luxury which surrounded him. He could not get enough of the fabrics that covered those beautiful furniture, the wallpapers, the many rooms, the toys for the children which he never dared to touch, but admired from a distance, and he knew he had never seen such beauty before. To be honest, Christine and Mahtab were happy he was well enough to walk, and Erik did not want to bother too much, so he allowed the newcomer to explore the house. If he catches him stealing something, he will pay for that anyway. Until that, he shall come and go around. The other children did not find it strange to have Gregory around. Yes, he was injured and Mahtab took him home. Mahtab took injured things home from time to time, and nursed them back to health. It was common he arrived home with a bird or such, but Gregory was the first human being on the list, but nobody found it strange.

It wasn't strange for the children that Gregory was unable to speak. As Erik and Christine wished to raise the children to be aware of disabilities from a young age, unlike society, which tried to hide unfortunate members of it by locking them away in asylums or special homes or institutions, and people in general had no clue how to treat someone who wasn't like them, the parents found it important that their kids shall not be like other people in this aspect and they explained to them about some people were unable to see or hear, or even talk, and that there were people who missed various body parts. The lack of the nose was easily shown to them, for example, and they never found it creepy or scary. Erik was actually "happy" that the children met people like Sophie, who was blind, or knew that Raoul missed fingers on his right, as all of these examples helped them to show an example. When they learned about Gregory's problem, it wasn't an oddity, just another example of a disability.

Gregory got better and better each day, and slowly met all the members of this family he was taken to. He started to get to know each of the people, yet there were so many people together in this family, he never knew one could have so many siblings around. He always felt so lonely in this world and had no idea that others were surrounded by many- many people who loved them. He was always alone, or with various toxic companion, whom he hopelessly started to follow not to be all alone in the world as a 7 year old, because he was yet a child, and needed someone with him. Even if they trained him for wrong things and expected him to commit crimes, he wasn't alone in the dark, and at least he received some food if he earned enough by begging or stealing.

This new bunch of people was something else than he knew before. They used no cusswords between each other. He did not even know people could talk without them for a long time. He was happy for the first time in his life he wasn't able to speak out loud when his wounds were taken care of, as if he was, he would have been utterly ashamed of the various combinations of swear words which came to his mind during the painful processes, and felt that this beautiful woman shall never hear such filthy things.

The mother, Christine, looked like an angel on Earth. She still reminded him of his mother, yet now he knew she wasn't. Yet she spoke so nicely to him, and would often caress his face and give him kind smiles. She also sang, and when she did, he could not help but wonder how it was possible to sing so beautifully. He never heard such a voice yet. Of course, Gregory had no idea about opera and voice training, he only heard the drunken caterwauling of the people at the inn or on the streets of the area he was from, and so he did not like what others have described as "music." He also knew a man with only one eye who played an old and worn violin which only had one rusty G string, he was very proud of the instrument which was told to be from Italy, yet others would often tease him about digging it from under a pile of trash. That man was old, creepy, and a lunatic, he never missed a night from the inn where he showed off his talents with that torture machine. Everyone called him "Fiddler of the Devil", and Gregory hated him not only for the insufferable noise he made, but because the much highly respected instrument's bow was often used as a weapon by the old man, especially against Gregory if he tried to pickpocket him, to follow his companion's orders, and this was the other reason Gregory did not really like "musicians."

Or so he thought. When he was well enough to get up and walk around, he found out that his whole life was a lie yet.

This family contained many people who played music, and Gregory understood only now what that word means. He had never met so beautiful sounds in his life and he was enchanted to listen to them, playing and singing together. They were so happy and love filled up the room, and his soul met an unknown level of peace and a special good feeling overtook him. He stood there, with mouth wide open and smiling, sometimes being afraid that they will send him away because he wasn't worthy of such a pure joy, but no one wanted to chase him out of the room.

It was also a difference. Actually no one wanted to chase or beat him at all. No matter what, he was always treated kindly by all of the people here. Christine was an angel, the man, Erik, seemed to be distant and strict but he was a kind man as well, and even though he was unlikely thin and tall and Gregory was unable to word why, but he wasn't an ordinary man like the ones he saw before. He moved around so softly he did not notice him ever, only by that moment he stood beside the bed or the chair he was placed in, and all his movements were graceful but awkward at the same time. From out of the people there, even though Erik was the most distant and least kind to him, he liked the father the most.

Now, that he stood in the doorway and that beautiful small girl stood in front of him, and he saw she was sad, he knew he should comfort her somehow, but did not know how to do so. He just took a step back, afraid of being yelled at for being here, but Belle looked at him with a smile.

\- Do you want to see my play? – She asked hopefully. – No one does. – She added.

Gregory nodded and shyly walked closer to Belle, who happily ran towards her room, excitedly showing the way to the boy. Gregory did not even dare to sit down in that beautiful room of that small girl, he was silently standing on the edge of the rug, looking at Belle, waiting for the happenings to come. Belle was grinning, and started to act out the story she just wrote in her mind. Greg was slowly getting more and more comfortable, and eventually he knelt down to her to see well. He was fascinated by the story, and he admired the girl who could come up with such a complicated play. When it ended, he clapped and smiled at her, pointing at the doll she was playing with.

\- Her name is Annie. – Belle explained. – I got her for my Birthday from Mama.

Gregory questioningly looked at her and reached out with shaky hands. He so wished to hold that toy for just a second. He was afraid of rejection, because he was so poor and just taken in out of pity, he really shall not hold such a thing… but Belle gave it to him.

\- Here, she wants you to hug her. – She smiled.

Gregory hugged the doll close to himself. This was the first time ever that he held a toy in his hands, and felt like a real child. Maybe here everything will be otherwise?

He spent a nice afternoon with Belle. He was feeling so well, better than any time in his life before. He was allowed to get his hands on the toys and he liked to play with toy soldiers the most. When Erik arrived home, and saw that Greg plays with the toys, the boy jumped up with sudden fright. Maybe the man did not allow him to touch his children's belongings and maybe he will beat him for that… He lifted his hand in front of his face, to be able to protect his head from hits, and Erik's heart nearly broke upon seeing this. It so much reminded him of that young masked boy in Germany, who did the exact same thing after being caught petting a horse in the old smith's stable after being taken as an aid. He did not like to admit, but he felt sorry for the poor mute thing.

\- Don't worry. – He said simply. – You are fine.

He did not touch Gregory, or did not lean closer to him, but his intonation was calming enough for the young child to relax, but he looked down in fright just a second later, when he realized this small scene made him wet his pants in fright. With shame, he closed his eyes and started crying, knowing that he had just ruined that rug, and that he was going to get it for this act. Erik just had another flashback from his childhood, noticing this, and even though he wished to be grumpy about this happening, he ended up just calmly asking the boy to go to take a bath and change his clothes.

\- Do you need help with washing yourself or you are fine doing it alone? – He added, knowing the boy had rare opportunities to wash normally before. When the boy just nodded and walked away, he just started cleaning up the puddle without any disgust or dismay.

When the boy arrived back, in a nice clean outfit and noticeably with wet hair, Erik nodded and patted the boy's shoulder gently, not to scare him.

\- It happens. – He said matter of factly. – You don't have to feel sorry about it.

The boy did not understand why everyone was so kind to him, including each of the children, the parents, and the old black man called "Tonton" by the children. No matter how bad or stupid things he was doing, no matter that he did not exactly know how to use knife and fork, no matter he could not tie his shoes and Christine had to teach him how to use a handkerchief, and no matter he could not talk, the family was kind and patient to him. He, even though he wasn't treated as a family member by Erik, as he felt it, followed the father around a lot. He did not know why, but he felt a special connection between them, as they were similar in a way. Erik did not mind it too much, he was already used to being followed by a child. He noticed though, that when the family or just a family member played music, Gregory was always near, listening in awe.

\- Are you interested in music? – He asked the child casually once, while playing a Beethoven sonata, noticing his presence behind him again.

Gregory nodded and walked closer to the piano, pointing at it, then at his ear.

\- It indeed sounds nice, but only if you can play it well. – Erik replied.

Gregory pointed at himself, then at the piano with a questioning expression.

\- You want to try? – Erik leaned closer.

A faint nod came as an answer, but Greg was already afraid he asked something too much. Erik again pitied the poor child for being so scared over each request of his, so he just lifted the boy up to the chair next to himself and put the child's right hand on the keys. Softly, he placed his bony, yet graceful long fingers on top of the child's, and gently pushed Gregory's finger which was laid on top of the correct note, and put the boy's hand to the right position when it was needed. The song was simple enough for a beginner pianist, which gave Gregory some self-confidence to try it alone after some tries. Not perfectly, but he was able to play " _London bridge is falling down_ " by right hand after a few tries.

Erik was surprised it was so easy to tutor a child which wasn't a family member. He nodded and praised the boy, who looked at him with such a thankful expression that Erik's "cold stone heart" as he called it sometimes playfully, was about to melt. Maybe this little thing isn't all hopeless either, as none of the children are on this earth. Even young Erik deserved a chance of a life. And this child, at least, isn't ugly, and even has a nose.

\- Tomorrow we are going to continue the lesson with the left hand part. – Erik stated. – Until that, you are free to go wherever you want. I am going to continue playing.

He put Greg down from the piano bench and turned back to play the rest of the sonata. While that, he constantly felt the boy's adoring glance on himself.


	73. Chapter 73

A strange family this was, indeed.

Gregory had the impression that he was taken in by a unique bunch of people, who accepted him as he was, as a mute little nervous thing who had trouble accepting the fact he wasn't beaten by anyone anymore. He was, of course, happy about that, but a bit of fear was always in his heart that this wasn't forever and he will be sent away if he misbehaves. To avoid misbehaving, he literally tried to avoid to do anything else than it was allowed or asked of him.

Erik, yet he did not wish to interfere too much with the child earlier, grew a special connection towards him in the following weeks and months, especially since Gregory took music lessons from him. The boy seemed to be an average talent, not tone deaf, but nothing special. He could memorize a melody, but wasn't capable of interpreting the emotions, he was merely able to imitate the notes Erik was playing. Good enough for someone who did not wish to make a living of music.

He noticed that Greg was nervous about the possibility of punishments or being sent away, so he, instead of putting the child down from the piano bench that time, he let him sit beside him for a bit, and looked at him compassionately.

\- Are you afraid that you have to go away from here soon, are you not?

Greg nodded sadly.

\- Well, I wish to tell you that you don't have to be afraid of this unless you do something I can't forgive you for. – Erik sighed. – For example if you steal something from me or my family, or you hurt them in any other way. But you seem to be a good boy. And even if you sometimes might misbehave, I don't throw you out right away. You are going to receive chances of gaining my trust. It is very uncommon of me, but I do know what you are going through. I understand you. I don't want to tell why, but I was hurt in my childhood much, just as you were, and I pity you for that. I will try my best to treat you like a protégée. You are here with my own family, as my son took you home when you got injured. We are going to help you if you are worthy of our trust. Don't lose it, and you will be given everything my children have. You will be able to study, dress and live just as my own children. Deal?

Greg had tears coming in his eyes. He was so- so happy of the possibility of being able to lead a life he was always yearning for, seeing other children. When he lived on the streets or in those filthy cellars or alleys, he was always jealous of those children led by their parents, dressed in nice clothes, being loved. Oh how he wished to be one of them… and now… can he be?

Yet Greg started to be curious why Erik, the man said he was beaten a lot in his childhood. He was an old man, so his childhood must have taken place long time ago, but he should have received much beatings if he still remembered that. Why people would beat such a man? Erik was tall, powerful, rich, and mostly kind hearted. What caused people to beat him? And if he was in a similar situation as Greg, how could he get so highly respected? Greg knew that everyone he met before this family, did despise him for being a filthy nameless orphan. He only had a first name, or to be clear, his full name was Gregory Unknown, as an officer registered him in the parish register. People sent him away when he wanted to beg for food, calling him stinky and filthy, and they were afraid he will give them fleas. And yet, Mahtab, the oldest boy often hugged him now that he was feeling better, and this made him feel so well. The children took his hand to lead him somewhere or if they were walking together on the streets, and he did not understand why weren't they repulsed as anyone else.

Of course, Greg could not know yet that Erik's children had other ideas of something being "disgusting". At first, this word was not really used by the family. It was on the unwritten list of "banned" words, along with the words "ugly, repulsive, hideous and yuck" if used to describe a person. No one was, or was allowed to be called ugly or such things by any of the children. They were all raised in this manner, especially by Christine. She did not want them to accidentally call Mahtab or Erik ugly, so they were just not allowed to call anyone names. If they were angry at someone, they had to word "I am angry with you", or "The way you act makes me mad" and not "You are annoying". Especially, they weren't allowed to yell "You're ugly!" at each other out of sheer anger or malice. They were taught to respect and accept each other and everyone just as they were, and how to handle deformities, and not to be afraid of them.

The fact that the children did not find Erik's and Mahtab's deformity strange or scary, did not mean they weren't "strange" anymore without any disguise. Erik and Mahtab painstakingly paid attention not to leave the house without the human mask they had, and made sure it was correctly put on, so it won't slip off. They sometimes checked on it during the day, to see if it loosened or not, to make sure it will stay intact. The problem was, they now could not go around in the house without it either. Otherwise they would have walked without a mask at home, if Gregory wasn't around. But he was. Sometimes they retreated in their own room to remove the mask for a time, to wash their face which got wet sometimes with sweat due to so much wearing the mask. Mahtab even had some pimples because of the constant wearing of the mask, and being a teen girl anyway. It wasn't comfortable, but neither of them wished to be seen by Greg without it. They did not know how the new kid would react, but they feared the reaction he'd show would be sheer terror.

Of course, no matter how careful they were, problems happened. Erik was preparing in the bathroom in the morning, for long, just true to his habits, when the door behind him opened. "Damn, I forgot to lock…" he thought, but he had no time to grab a towel to cover his face from possible danger, as it had already came. He noticed Gregory standing behind him. They saw each other's reflection in the mirror, and Erik just closed his eyes in shame. The thing he was afraid of, finally happened. Now this boy knows what his secret was. He did not wish to confront, yet earlier, in his youth, he had killed strangers for the mere fact of seeing his face. But he was just an old man now, tired of confrontations through his life. He was thankful he could not her the child scream at least. Yet he did not wish to see his terrified expression.

\- Go away. – He said finally, after some minutes of silence, with a broken intonation.

\- Papa, it is all right, it is me here too. – Mahtab's voice came from behind him.

\- Is that just you or…?

\- No, Greg is here too. – Mahtab said calmly.

\- Is he unconscious or dead, or what? – Erik asked brokenly.

\- No, he is fine. – Mahtab informed him.

\- How come? – Erik became suspicious and astonished at the same time, and opened his eyes to check whether Mahtab is telling him the truth or not.

Gregory was indeed standing beside Mahtab, who knelt down and hugged the young boy's neck. Erik noticed with utter shock that neither did his son wear a mask. There was that poor, surely traumatized 7 year old mute and already abused boy with two strange creatures with a skull's head, and he sure did not know how to react. Oh why that poor child had to see this? His own children were used to this already, but this is a foreign kid… foreign kids always screamed or threw stones at him… how come he did not try to fight Mahtab who hugged him?

\- Papa, Greg already knew. – Mahtab said calmly.

\- Knew…? – Erik gasped. – What…?

\- I told him we were some kind of… different you know. I explained him the whole issue as I knew we could not go on living like pretending we had a face like anyone else if we plan to have him in the family. And close family deserves to know the truth.

\- But… but… why isn't he… afraid?

Erik examined Greg's facial expression which only showed a bit of surprise and… worry. But not the mindless horror Erik had to always face when someone saw him without a mask.

\- He was prepared for it. I described the deformity, and showed him my face first. After he dared to touch me without being slightly afraid, I decided to show him yours, so now both of us are free to walk without a mask.

\- Are you not… disgusted, boy? – Erik leaned closer to Gregory, who shrugged and shook his head. He seemed to be honest.

He walked closer to Erik, and stood on his tiptoes to examine him a bit better, then hugged him with a smile.

This hug changed everything. This was the absolute first time Erik was hugged by a boy who wasn't his own child, after they saw his face. Until this hug, Erik still considered Greg to be an outsider, who will be raised with his own kids, but will never be treated as his own in his heart. He could accept Belle as his child better because she was found and taken in as a baby. He raised her in all her life. This boy was already a seven year old boy, already raised by many people, receiving personality traits and habits from others, and he did not think Greg will ever be a part of him, in any context. But now, that Greg, without any hesitation and bloodily connection, hugged him, the scary monster, and also his son, who looked exactly like him, he knew that this child is indeed his son. How could he keep distance anymore? Whoever can accept him and his child without disgust as they are, deserves to be part of his family. He lifted Greg up and stroke the boy's short hair, and softly whispered:

\- You are my fourth son. And I love you.

The great thing was that Erik was the only one in the family who still wanted to keep distance with Gregory up until this point. The others had already accepted him, and handled him as if he was always a sibling to them. Mahtab, as the oldest, was teaching him a lot, Flo was playing a lot for him, as he also noticed Greg loved music, and Belle often invited him to watch her mini plays she directed herself, just as at the first time when Greg followed her. But the happiest for Gregory's arrival was indeed Noel. Noel was 12, and Belle was just 5 years old. It is an incredibly huge age difference between the two youngest children especially that Noel was a mature and serious boy who loved science and magic tricks, and Belle was just… a girl. A ballerina, a princess and a totally girly girl. Noel liked her in general, but did not like to play with her too much as he was bored by her mini plays and tea parties with her dolls. He so wished for a boy to play with, many times earlier! True, he had two brothers, but both of them were older. Mahtab was already too old for him, and most of the time he did not understand the things that interested Mahtab, and Flo, even though he was only two years older than Noel, was also occupied by music or chasing girls, so they, though did get along well if they actually met, did not have much time to play together, and anyway, Flo wasn't interested in science, only music. Gregory was still younger than Noel, but not as much as Belle. There was five years difference between them, and they could play together very well, even though Greg wasn't able to talk. They communicated as they could – Greg usually wrote or gestured, and Noel was just talking to him about everything which interested him. Greg was thankful for every minute he was able to spend with his older brother, so they were nearly inseparable in these past months.

The Daroga was watching the children getting even with Gregory day by day, and he started wondering about some issue he did wish rather to bury deep inside his thoughts, but it kept returning, bugging his mind.

"Maybe IS murder the solution sometimes?"

If Mahtab did not end that drunkard's life that night, he sure would have killed Gregory in his outrage and the boy would have never be able to get into a family where they clearly like him. He suddenly had opportunity to have love surround him, to have siblings and to study like everyone else. Giving a better life to a child, maybe is a reason for murder? Does a young boy's life value more than a grown up man's? That man was sure not leading a proper life, he was merely existing mostly. That life, when he was only seeking for alcohol, and when he got it, he bet up everyone and yelled at everyone he could… is this really a life? And now that Gregory is saved, he would be able to live as a normal person… life for a life, as they say.

One evening, when Mahtab and Gregory were talking, Greg wrote suddenly:

"Mahtab, did you ever wish to have a nose, knowing you can't?"

\- Not really. – Mahtab shrugged. – Why?

"Because I don't have a voice. You don't have a nose. I thought you missed your nose as I do miss my voice."

The boy looked so sad, writing that.

\- I think it is because I never had a nose, and I don't miss it as I did not lose it like you lost your voice. If I could help you with it… I would.

Mahtab put his hand on Greg's shoulder and they looked at each other sadly for a time, but after a few minutes, Mahtab's face lit up with a sudden realization.

\- Papa can help you with this!

He caught Greg's hand excitedly, and rushed to Erik with him, who was lost in writing his music.

\- Papa! Papa!- Mahtab stormed into the room with Greg.

\- What? – Erik looked up in surprise. – Is the house in fire or what?

\- No, but please make Greg talk as you did make Cadence talk!

\- Oh come on, Mahtab, Cadence was a robot. – Erik waved in the air in frustration.

\- But you can make things talk.

\- Oh… true… ventriloquism, you mean? – He scratched his head, then turned to Greg. – Well move your mouth as you were talking. Say hello.

Greg looked a bit of surprised at first, but after he shrugged and tried to say "Hello."

\- Hello, Papa and Mahtab.

An altered voice of Erik's, which sounded like a young boy, came from Greg's throat. The young boy's jaw dropped as he saw no one talking in the room, and the sound really came from his own direction. He gasped then started to jump up and down.

\- I can talk, look everyone, I can talk!

Erik went on with the play, as Gregory's face reflected an indescribable euphory.

They were playing like that for hours, until it was time for the children to go to bed, and Erik had to drink a glass of water to calm down his vocal chords after such a performance.

\- This young child tone is killing my throat. – He cleared his throat a few times, then gave a small chuckle.

\- Erik, do you think it is a good idea to make Gregory believe he is able to talk?

\- We are just playing around, Christine, it makes him happy.

\- If only you could help him… - She sighed.

\- I know. – Erik sat down in his chair with a sigh as well.

After a few minutes of silence though, he looked at Christine with a hint of mad scientist look all over his face.

\- Maybe I CAN help him.

\- How? – Christine gasped in astonishment.

Erik did not give an answer, as he was already deep in his thoughts. He slowly stood up from his chair and walked to his huge bookshelves to search for his medical books to study the issue.


	74. Chapter 74

Erik was reading his medical books for a long time that night, he was searching for each and any possibility he could find and consider, refreshing all his knowledge needed for the possible hard procedure he was considering. Slowly dawn found him, still reading, as the lamp was still lit next to him. He did not even realize he did not need it any longer, even though he was really against wasting anything, and would argue enough with the children about always leaving the lights on, or not properly closing taps. He would sometimes scold Christine indirectly, about buying so many clothes to the children as well, spoiling them.

\- In our times, sure we were chased around the table if we had no three jackets and four pair of trousers to wear one single day, eh? Again, you have so many clothes and you don't pack half of them normally. They are on the floor, or on chairs, are they? In my childhood I had a single pair of shoes, only worn when I was to leave the house!

\- You told me you weren't allowed to leave the house, Papa. – Noel corrected, as always, because Noel was always there to argue, only to receive another mountain speech from his father.

\- I was, when Mother needed a man around the house! Of course, it was me she could send to get in water or chop firewood! You have running water in the house and you just keep going on like spoiled little princes. You would deserve to be taken to a cottage in Russia, in the middle of the huge snow field with no plumbing and gas and literally nothing! That, my son, would teach you all how not to waste and how to take care of yourselves, for sure.

Of course, he never a hundred percent meant what he was talking about. He just felt he was more powerful in his children's eyes if he was scolding them from time to time. As he noticed he was wasting energy by reading at lamplight in the morning, he now even scolded himself half loudly. Yet he was happy he did not research and was up all night for nothing. He remembered correctly: there maybe was a way to help Greg. And he could not wait to share it with someone… but not with Greg at first.

The door of the Daroga's room was knocked wide open and before that poor man could turn to his other side and wake up properly, he heard that most beautiful, yet sometimes most annoying painfully familiar male voice.

\- Good morning, Daroga!

\- Allah…- He moaned, rubbing his eyes.

\- No, I am still Erik. But thank you for the honor.

\- What are you doing here?

\- Talking to you, of course. You have five minutes to get ready for a talk. I am waiting for you, and checking the time. My watch is still very much accurate. – He pointed at the Persian with a skeletal finger, then left the room, to call back from the door: - Five minutes, Daroga!

The poor Persian was sure something terrible was going to happen, or Erik simply lost his mind, just as always. He did not even waste the time with yawning, only he hurriedly put on a robe and appeared in the living room with Erik.

\- Oh ho! Two minutes and a half. Nice job Daroga, you finally learned it is better to obey if I ask something.

\- What do you want? – The Persian wasn't in the best mood, being upset about Erik's not at all unusual but the scarier for that fact, behavior.

\- To make a child's life turn to the better. – He pointed at a page and shoved it under the Daroga's nose.

\- What the Hell is that? – The Persian snorted.

\- Can't you read? Oh, I am so tired I have to explain literally everything to all of you, but well. This is how vocal chords work, you can see on the attached illustration.

\- And?

\- And I am going to see if I can do something about Greg's damaged ones.

\- Erik! – The Daroga gasped, instantly sobering up. – This is nonsense! This is impossible!

\- There is nothing impossible, my dear friend. – Erik chuckled.- Erik will give voice to his newest son, he promised him.

\- Let me see it clearly: you want to experiment on a seven year old child, possibly even kill him? Erik, a surgery like that is way too far-fetched! Search a doctor if you want to help him! A surgeon!

\- Humbug. – Erik snorted. – I trust none of them.

\- But Erik, you have had a surgery and…

\- And that fool nearly killed me with overdosing anesthetics, thank you. I can also kill my son, there is no need to hire someone else to do it for me.

\- Just because that happened ONCE, it does not mean Greg will meet the same fate. – Mohammed sighed with irritation.

\- I don't know any surgeons in London. If I, myself had a new medical condition, or either the children, I swear I'd rather go back to Paris to consult with Bonsanté about that.

\- You shall write him a letter then to consult your new brain damage! – The poor Daroga groaned.

\- It is old, he already knows about it and cannot help. – Erik retorted. – Yet, I can help.

\- Erik… - The Persian took a deep breath. – I am not going to say this to hurt you, but… but you might be too… aged to do such things. You said it yourself, that you sometimes have trouble lifting your hand to adjust your glasses. How can you operate on a child's throat in that condition?

\- At first, nowadays I am in a good enough health. Secondly, this is why I am going to need an aid.

\- Me? – The Persian, if it would be possible with his complexion, would have sure turned to white as the wall, hearing this.

\- Of course not. – Erik shook his head. – You are not much help, you faint upon seeing the slightest bloodshed.

\- If you refer to the time I fainted, it wasn't because I am sick of the sight of blood. It was because I was sick of the sight WHAT YOU DID. And that MUCH blood. And other….

\- Shut up.

\- How could you…?

\- Daroga! We are wandering slightly off subject.

\- And…. Erik who did you think of as an aid…? No. – He suddenly realized the situation and jumped up to grab Erik's skeletal hand. – You are not going to involve Moonlight in this nonsense!

\- He had already helped me with medical issues before. He is a great child.

\- Yes, but constructing a prosthetic hand for an already missing limb is something else than literally dissecting a living child's throat, Erik!

\- I don't understand you. – Erik shrugged. – For the years we have known each other, you kept telling me to be good, help others and do good things. Now that I wish to help someone, now that is the matter.

\- Erik, it is not your intent which is the problem, but the fact HOW are you going to solve it.

\- Did you forget?

\- What?

\- Who nursed you back to health after your illness recently?

\- You. – The Daroga sighed.

\- Who nursed you back to health after you nearly drowned?

\- Partly Darius, because you just put me on my doorstep!

\- Your fever went down by the time I did so. I had no more time to play "nurse the baby" with you, I had more important things to do.

\- For example locking Raoul up? And don't forget: where did I nearly drown, huh?

\- We are again slightly off subject.

\- I do just the same as you always do, avoid the point you don't wish to talk about.

\- Who helped with the Shah's cough your leeches weren't able to identify?

\- You, you, it was you, all right, I admit it: you are Jesus, resurrecting Lazarus with your violin!

\- Oh, good you remind me, I wished to play it for Christine, she loves if I do, from time to time.

\- May I have a guess, Erik? This let us cure someone is not really about Gregory, is it?

\- What do you mean? – Erik's body language changed. Before he was like a self-confident Opera Ghost, but at that very moment he hid his hands behind his back and hid his neck between his shoulders, just like a child who was caught doing something wrong, protecting himself from a slap.

\- Erik… I think it is important for you because you just want to be good. But…

\- You know why I started learning medicine and human anatomy, Daroga?

\- Why?

\- Two reasons: one is to find out what was wrong with me and how to cure or change it somehow… and secondly, which became more important for me as time passed: to be able to kill people more easily. List me herbs that cure, Daroga. Good herbs.

\- Well… thyme, chamomile, linden…

\- Fool. – Erik snorted. -There are NO such things as good herbs. Any herbs you list, or may think of, can be used for either to cure and kill. Or at least, to make someone suffer. You have to know the patients' medical conditions, and you can either help or harm the person with what you give them. In the first 50 years, I hardly helped anyone. The examples I listed were the only ones I did to make people's lives better.

\- And now you wish to help Gregory to prove yourself that you are able to help people and you are a good person?

\- Partly. It is not only about Erik.

\- But?

\- Sometimes… you understand things so slowly, Daroga. Why, do you think, I wish to have Mahtab by my side? Partly to help me, yes. But other way…?

\- To show him the good path. – The Daroga nodded.

\- Finally. – Erik sighed with relief. – Believe it or not, I am not happy at all that Mahtab killed that person. I know he meant well, and I know he had felt he had no other choice. But understand, I wish to show him he can use his talent and knowledge for other things as well. I don1t want him to end up like his miserable wreck father. He is living in a happy marriage now, Daroga, for more than 20 years, and Erik still isn't like others. He tries to be, but his life before can still be sensed in his actions. Mahtab just turned to the wrong path, and I wish to stop him, showing him how to use his talents. If all I achieve in my life will be saving my deformed child from my horrible fate, it was already worth it. And with this action, I score two goals at once: I cure a boy and guide my son back on the right way to go.

\- I understand. – The Daroga stated calmly. – Yet I still believe you are planning an utterly dangerous move and I am worried of that. But, knowing one can't change your mind…

\- I believe in ourselves, Daroga, but at first, I do have to examine Greg. Might be he can't even be saved like that. It depends on the injuries in his throat he had gotten. But at least, I try.

\- Oh Erik… I almost forgot. You do have to ask the patient's approval of the surgery first.

\- Which seven year old would deny such an opportunity, you fool?

\- Erik…

\- Oh, shut up, I will. But just don't talk about this to the others. I want to investigate the possibilities with the boy. Oh how I wish I had a laboratory just like in Paris…

\- That would be awesome, Noel would have a place to blow up in every second day, just like you. I thank Allah for this fact every other day.

Erik did not reply, only waved in the air before leaving the room.

Greg was suspiciously and slightly uncomfortably examined his new Papa's face when the man told him to sit in front of him and open his mouth. Erik was holding a lantern too close to his head, and the light bothered his eyes, nearly blinding him. This was the first occasion he felt a bit of fear again since he was with his new family. Oh how he loathed fear. He was used to fear before in his life, all the people he was starting to trust, did betray him in the end. They would hurt him mentally and physically, they would slap him, kick and beat him, and his latest owner who wanted to teach him to drink…

\- Drink, you little rat, at least it will be visible on you! – That nasty laugh still echoed in his ears. He did not wish to have that damned beer yet again. It tasted horrible, and every time it was forced down on his throat, he would throw up. It was bitter.

And one day that horrible drink was accidentally (really accidentally?) replaced by that burning liquid that took away his voice… and the man was only laughing at him…

\- Don't cry, son, please. – Erik's soothing voice filled his ears suddenly. He did not know how, but this man could sound so beautifully and calmingly as no one else. – I am only trying to help you. Please sit down and open your mouth, will you?

Greg now felt he had nothing to be afraid of. If this man had just half as beautiful face as his voice is, he should not have had that horrible life before. He now felt he will never have to be afraid again, and he hoped so. He needed to trust someone finally. He sat down on the chair in front of Erik and opened his mouth, just as he was asked. Showing trust shall repay.

\- Good boy, I am so proud of you. – Erik smiled and talked reassuringly to the child, to calm him. – I am going to tell you everything I am going to do or examine, don't be afraid. Papa is looking at your throat to find out how badly is it hurt. The lantern is only for me to see better. Now would you please lean a bit backwards…. That is it, my boy, you are so obedient, I like it. Let's see…

Erik examined the scars and scabby parts in the boy's throat, and nodded after a time, smiling.

\- Yes, there is trouble. But it isn't as bad as I thought it is. – He explained. – Tell me, Greg, do you wish Papa to fix this?

Greg's eyes got wide open, and his lips ran to such a wide smile it reached from ear to ear, and he started nodding vehemently.

\- I knew you would say so. If Papa's plans work out the way he imagined, you are going to have your voice back. But please know that we are not hundred percent sure it is going to succeed. Do you still want it? You will have to suffer through some time… it will be painful.

Greg grabbed a pencil and wrote

"I don't mind pain. I want to speak."

\- What a clever and brave little boy you are, just like your Papa! That is the spirit!

Erik patted the boy's back happily, who leaped into his arms and hugged him tight. The young child's eyes reflected so much joy and hope that Erik nearly started crying. He composed himself enough not to though – he had to be the powerful father figure and he shall hardly ever cry in front of his children.

After dinner, when Erik sent all his children to do their homework, only Mahtab stayed in the room with him. Even Gregory had homework by this time, he was learning how to write in full understandable and well – worded sentences, and the basics to calculate.

\- What's that, Mahtab? Why don't you study? – Erik turned to the oldest child, who did not leave.

\- You forgot to give me homework. – Mahtab explained.

Of course, Erik did not. It was intentionally planned this way.

\- Did I? – Erik lifted his head from his newspaper, pretending he was really just forgetful.

\- You did. – Mahtab nodded.

\- Then we shall figure out something. – Erik stood up from his armchair, grabbing the medical book from the shelf he had shown to the Daroga in the morning. – Read this chapter about vocal chords and memorize it. – He put the book in front of the teen and winked at him naughtily. – If you are finished I shall listen to it. Pay attention. It is a matter of life and death.

Mahtab suspected there was something meaningful behind it, but he became sure of it as soon as he saw his father's side notes scribbled on the edge of the page, with his nearly unreadable cursive, but Mahtab was already used to it.

\- Why did you write this here, Papa? – He lifted his head and pointed at the last line, which said: " teamwork"

\- I need your help. – Erik sat close to the child and put his hand on his shoulder.

\- Naturally. – Mahtab nodded. – In what?

\- Do you remember when we worked on a prosthetic hand for Tonton Raoul?

\- Of course! – The teen's deformed face lit up with joy, his eyes suddenly shone with interest and an urge to help. He smiled the best to his abilities.

\- Well, now it is going to be a bit more complicated, as we are going to give vocal chords to Greg he will be able to use. It is a dangerous task, Mahtab, which is why I ask you to pay attention and learn everything with 110% of accuracy. Greg's life is the risk.

\- But why do we do the operation if it is so dangerous? – Mahtab asked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. – You said you accepted Greg as mute, and so did I. I love him like this.

\- I do, my dear, and so does all the family, but society won't. Do I have to explain you how people treat those who are not like them? From all the people, I doubt I have to explain it to you, am I wrong? – Erik's voice reflected so much bitterness and compassion at the same time that an involuntarily sigh of agreement left Mahtab's chest.

\- Of course, Papa, I understand.

\- See? If we can save him from a life of solitude, mocking and rejection, why should we not?

\- You are right. – Mahtab smiled again. – I only want the best for him.

\- You are a good child, Mahtab. – Erik said seriously. – Never forget that, dear: you always have good intentions. Your soul is clear. You are meant to be good.

Erik looked into Mahtab's discolored eyes with fatherly love and wished his son would notice the meaning behind his words before it was too late. As Mahtab always had extremely high social understanding skills from a young age, unlike Erik, he nearly always knew what his partner felt, without even needing them to tell him how they felt, so he noticed his father was worrying about him for some reason.

\- Papa, if you say so, I have no doubt. – He calmed Erik, smiling.

\- Just do your best please. – Erik cleared his throat. – Learn. Study. Feel. Follow your heart. And always know you are good.

With these last words of encouragement, Erik stroke his son's blondish hair, placed a soft kiss on the top of his head, then left him alone to be able to study the anatomy lesson which will have a very heavy importance in a few weeks to come.


	75. Chapter 75

Christine found the behavior of Erik and Mahtab quite strange in the past few weeks. Erik was asking many anatomical questions of Mahtab, especially about the throat and vocal chords, to which the boy replied with a 100 percent accuracy. Mahtab always loved to learn, for sure, and he was always happy when he was praised by Erik about his knowledge, but mostly before they put the bigger importance on subjects like mathematics, science and music, which subjects usually interested Mahtab the most. They have never discussed matters that would be suitable for surgeons as well before, and it alarmed Christine a bit. But maybe she over reacts things sometimes? Maybe Mahtab just asked about vocal chords and Erik explains how they worked…? There was always a special connection between those two, and they felt much comfortable in each other's company, talking about literally everything that came to their minds.

But there was another issue later. They disappeared, just the two of them, more and more, for hours in the afternoon. She saw Erik less and less as he assisted Florian with his concerts or musical studies, Mahtab with anatomy, and he kept occupying himself with many things. There were days when they only met in bed, which wasn't too entertaining either by the fact Erik had fallen asleep by the time his head touched the pillow because he was so tired.

\- Erik, we hardly ever meet nowadays. – She sighed in the morning when they were getting ready for the day ahead of them. – I understand you are busy, but I forgot I have a husband already.

\- You are right, Christine, yes, you are. – Erik nodded while hurriedly putting his shirt on, but he seemed to be somewhere else in his thoughts yet again.

\- Erik, please take a step back. You would need to rest. You will overstrain yourself again. You are not getting younger…

\- Yes- yes, I know. – He nodded out of routine, yet again. – I am going to rest more, but in these weeks, you see, it is impossible, literally. I have too much to do.

\- Erik, if you don't rest enough, life will MAKE you rest more for weeks.

\- Christine, my sweet Christine. – Erik smiled and walked to his wife, and gently kissed her forehead. – It touches my heart how much you worry about your little husband, yet he is fine. He really is.

\- Of course I worry about you. – Christine pulled her robe tighter on her as she shivered from cold by even the thought of losing Erik, or the man suffering from a serious illness. – I love you. – She added.

\- I love you too. – Erik replied with a smile, then calmingly stroke Christine's face. – Just a few more days, sweetie. I promise if things work out the way I imagined and do hope, I promise I will be home a lot more from next week.

\- What are you referring to? – Christine's brows raised with surprise, hearing the news.

\- I can't tell more. – Erik informed casually. – I am superstitious about projects in progress, as always, my dear.

Christine did not like this explanation at all. She knew if Erik did not wish to reply openly, it meant nothing good regarding the future usually. She decided to keep her eyes open and pay attention to the happenings.

There were other happenings, of course. She, for example, nearly died of fright when she saw Mahtab was carrying a child body covered by a white sheet to the basement at an evening, in his arms. The shape of a child could be easily seen under the sheet, and she could not help but scream in horror upon realizing it. She did not even dare to think what could have happened… should she run to count the children?

\- Mama! – Mahtab gasped as he turned back to face Christine and he dropped the body in sudden fright. The child made a very unnatural sound while hitting the ground under the stairs, and Christine noticed a small head rolling out from under the cover.

\- What in God's name is happening? – Christine asked with shock.

\- Mama, don't be afraid, it is not a real child. It is just a doll. – Mahtab explained quickly, understanding the reason behind his mother's alarm.

\- But what is it for…? And why did you chop off its head?

\- I did not chop off its head. – Mahtab smiled. - It is removable.

\- But what is it for…?

\- It is for me to practice, Mama. I made it with Papa's assistance.

\- What do you practice?

\- Anatomy and helping patients. I think I would like to become a doctor if God helps me to achieve my goal.

\- Mahtab… - Christine wiped her forehead in a sudden relief, but worriedly examined her child. – You chose a hard occupation, my dear… there are no female doctors around…

\- Mama… you keep forgetting I am not one. Not a female. – Mahtab replied with a tired sigh, then he collected the doll hurriedly and with a hint of hurt in his eyes, he walked away and entered the basement.

\- Leave him alone with that, Christine. – Erik's scolding tone could be heard, but Erik was nowhere near to be seen. – I am happy he is finally feeling useful.

Christine wasn't happy and convinced about this, but she had to agree about the teen's usefulness, so she did not argue more, only turned around and walked back upstairs. Maybe better if she does not even know what was going on with that doll.

The doll, of course served the purpose of being a test subject body of a child in Gregory's age, it was sized perfectly for the boy's height and it was the perfect material to practice on, without hurting a living being. Even blood loss was possible to follow and stop, just like in a human body. Mahtab had to practice the surgery's steps which Erik was planning, step by step, getting ready for each possibility and turn of events. Practice was another important thing for a doctor and his aid, it wasn't enough if Mahtab only learned the anatomy book by heart with a hundred percent accuracy if the movements weren't in his fingers. Erik wanted to be a hundred percent sure his son was prepared to do the surgery, even all alone. Who knows if something maybe happens to him, he wasn't a young man already and the operation was going to last for hours.

Another problem, of course, was the family. Of course, it wasn't a problem anytime else, but they could not allow to be disturbed by anyone that special day. Even the slightest mistake by someone's attention drawn away from the operation could be fatal to Greg. Erik, for this reason, rent an empty flat, for a full month, and from that day, they went to practice there instead of the basement of the house. Carrying a body though, all along the streets of London, would be a kind of awkward and maybe alarming sight to some people, and Erik most certainly did not want any attention. Putting the thing in a bag would have solved nothing – it still looked too much like a child's body in a bag, which was even worse of a situation. To tell the truth, Greg will walk there on his own legs as well, so why can't the doll do the same? It resulted in Erik created a mechanism yet again which allowed the doll to go after him and Mahtab, just like a real thing would.

\- Cadence! – Mahtab exclaimed when Erik showed him the end result.

\- Oh, you still did not forget that stupid doll? – Erik sighed.

\- One can never forget their first best friend. – Mahtab replied with passion.

\- Mahtab, it was just a doll.

\- Papa, can't we create a girlfriend for me? – Mahttab inquired suddenly.

\- Create? Mahtab, oh come on, stop this.

\- Why? Papa, no woman will ever love me. – He added sadly. – You know how that can be. With my face…

\- Mahtab, you forget something.

\- What?

\- I do look like you, and I have a wife. I used to think like you do, son, I know what you mean. But I married your Mama and now I have five children. Well, four and a half.

\- But Papa… there are no other woman like Mama. – Mahtab sighed. – And you know there is another problem with me. You at least, are a man by nature. I have to work hard to be a man.

\- Dear, still, creating a partner for you is not the right way. It is only an illusion. You would only make a fool of yourself, thinking you have a wife, when you don't. All you have is an automaton. I was the same… I know.

\- Did you have one as well? – Mahtab's eyes lit up in interest.

\- Yes.

\- One that looked like Mama?

\- No. I did not know Mama back then. It was a female robot I created for myself, her name was… Persephone. Do not laugh, please. Yet she did not really serve any of my plans as I realized while creating her that… it was going to mean nothing. If someone is lonely, they are lonely with a made up companion as well. Mahtab, if someone really loves you they will love you no matter what.

\- Even with my… odd features?

\- Do you think, my son, you are the only one who feels they were born in the wrong body? You are never the only one, son, but others, just like you, are afraid to admit their feelings because people won't understand them. They are afraid people will be disgusted of them if they admit. But once you are intimate enough with them… they will admit it. Mahtab I believe there is someone out there for you. If you asked me twenty- five years ago, I would have most likely answered just what you say now: that no woman was ever going to love you. But it is not the case, dear. You, with your pure heart and charming personality, will most likely find someone.

\- Do you honestly think so, Papa?

\- I do. – Erik nodded.

\- Then… I stop worrying over my future.

\- Child, if I learned something during my life, it is worry is useless. You can't always change the happenings. Good and bad things happen. You only have to get the best out of the possibility given to you. And worrying only makes you tired.

Mahtab accepted his father's reasoning, and he was sure Erik had much more experiences of life than he had. Papa always knows what he is talking about. Papa says wise things mostly, and he had never given him a wrong advice before.

After five weeks of hard studying and practicing, the day of the surgery arrived finally. Erik thought there was no need to delay it any longer- Greg was excited enough and it was better to get through it as soon as possible- the boy will need weeks to recover as well, so the sooner it starts the sooner it will finish.

\- You did not talk about the thing we are going to do, eh? – Erik knelt down to the boy's height while bundling him in his warm cape and putting a cap on his head. Greg shook his head and showed a "my lips are sealed" sign which made Erik laugh out. – And you aren't afraid, hm?

Greg's face got a bit more serious for a few seconds but he shrugged in the end, shaking his head yet again. Erik patted his head and said:

\- We are going to take good care of you. Don't worry.

Greg nodded and smiled at his new father, and reached out his hand so he can be led along the street. Erik was kind of strict about holding the hands of the children under the age of about 8, mostly, when they walked on the street, to prevent them from running too far from him and get in trouble. It was especially the most needed when Mahtab and Noel were small – those two were masters of disappearing in a blink of an eye. One can never be careful enough when it is about safety of these cheese worms.

Mahtab followed Erik and Greg a few steps behind them, wondering about what was going to happen. Erik, to ease the younger child's fear, which Greg was trying to disguise, entertained him with some ventriloquism, making everything on the street talk which surrounded them. A passerby dog said "Hello Greg" suddenly, making people around them turning to the dog's direction in awe, which made Greg smile widely. Mahtab smiled as well under his small mustache. He remembered back Papa used to calm him as well with ventriloquism when he was small, and he loved this trick. Up until today, it was the only way Greg was able to "talk". Erik knew what he was going to say, and "translated" the child's thoughts towards the family, throwing his altered voice in Greg's throat. From today if things work out the way they imagined, Greg will have his own voice.

In the apartment, after Greg was comfortably placed on a table which was covered by white sheets and many various objects were around him, he was a bit of too much afraid suddenly. Erik and Mahtab were kindly talking to him to make him feel better, but he could not help but started trembling with fear. Yet Erik had such a voice it was too beautiful and too much enchanting not to be heard, even in his deepest fear. Erik held something in a bottle under his nose, and his head spun… and darkness fell on him.

\- Pinch his arm. – Erik told Mahtab.

No reaction came from the boy for the pain. He was sound asleep, knocked out.

\- We may start. – Erik nodded, putting on one of his older masks, to cover his mouth and ordered Mahtab to do the same.

In an hour, Mahtab felt everything, literally everything was covered in blood around them. He wondered for a few seconds how Gregory did not yet bleed out completely, yet Erik was constantly assuring him everything was going all right. Looking around, it wasn't indeed everything. The sheets had some patches of course, and the gloves they were wearing were bloody, so they left fingerprints on the things they touched. Hours passed. Long- long hours. They were concentrating on the actions they were currently working at, and they tried not to think of what happens if they mess something up. Erik had much more routine with thinking with a cold head and shut all emotions down than Mahtab. The younger doctor simply could not see Greg as a patient only. He was looking at the pale face of his young brother, and sometimes felt weak in the knees.

\- Pay attention to the task. – Erik ordered, noticing his son's weakness. – Only to the task.

Mahtab swallowed, trying not to look at the patient's face any more. He did not wish his hands to start trembling, as it would be extremely unlucky…

Finally, they replaced Greg's damaged vocal chords and scar tissue in his throat, after a long time. No wonder the boy was unable to speak. Acid – as Erik was now sure it was acid he swallowed- did some nasty work there. Thankfully nothing they could not repair. Now only sewing the wound was left.

To tell the truth, Erik was happy they finally were at this point. He felt extremely tired by this point. The surgery required endless concentration for long hours and he was both physically and emotionally worn out. Finishing up, he had no time to even dry his hands off of blood. He suddenly felt weak, and his legs weren't able to support him any longer.

\- Papa! – Mahtab gasped in shock when seeing Erik collapsed next to the table onto the floor.

\- Don't bother with me. – Erik replied slowly. – And don1t bother Greg. We… need to wait a bit… before moving him to a bed.

\- Papa if you are ill… - Mahtab knelt down next to Erik, worriedly examining Erik's eyes and movements. – Follow my hand…

\- Mahtab, I am fine. – Erik let out a small laugh. – I just… I like it here. Do not worry.

\- I go get help. – He wanted to run to get his coat, but Erik squeezed his ankle.

\- Sit down on your rear. No need to run around like a poisoned mouse. Calm down. I like it here.

\- But are you…?

\- I am just tired. And not ill. Just too tired to get up now.

\- Papa, I am afraid.

\- Everyone is. – He smiled. – Yet a man is a man because he is grown up enough to be able to handle his fear the correct way. Fear can't turn to panic. Panic is… destructive.

With a tired sigh, Erik closed his eyes to rest a bit. He was on the floor but he did not mind it too much. Mahtab looked at Greg's pale face, and his father on the floor, and finally he could not do anything else than cleaning Greg out of blood, and removed his bloody gloves, then started praying to God for the safety of his loved ones.


	76. Chapter 76

Mahtab needed to be a nurse during the rest of the day, and until morning, but he did not mind it at all. He was slightly worried, but seeing Erik was able to get up from the floor after some time, he wasn't desperate any longer and took care of both Erik and Greg. Erik got better by night, but Greg was sleeping too much. He was pale and worn out, but it wasn't a miracle after such a complicated surgery he had to suffer through.

\- Will he be able to speak, Papa? Really? – Mahtab asked worriedly while carrying a cup of coffee to Erik.

\- We did what we could. – Erik said seriously. – We can only wait and hope for the best.

\- What others will say in the family? – This was the first time Mahtab thought of this.

\- If the outcome will be pleasant, we will be praised and thought to make miracle. If the outcome isn't pleasant we will be called maniacs, leeches and such things, just as a real doctor. You have to learn to accept this if you really wish to become a real doctor.

\- Are doctors really just experimenting Papa?

\- They don't like to admit it, son, but yes they do a lot. We all are in God's hands in the end, but you have to try everything you can do to help.

Greg opened his eyes and weakly reached out towards them. Erik hurriedly got up from his chair and walked to the young boy to see if he was all right. He could not believe his eyes when he saw the child smiled at him. He received a smile after hurting him in a way… his other patients weren't this thankful usually when they woke up after a surgery. If they woke up at all. He put his skeletal hand on the boy's forehead. Greg did not have fever, thank Heavens. He wanted to open his mouth to finally say something to his new father, but Erik strictly put his finger on Greg's lips.

\- Oh no, not yet, Greg. You shall wait until your throat heals and after, only after that you may speak. I will tell you when. I am going to see how it heals, more times every day, and after you will be able to speak. Now you should only rest and drink a lot. Will you be a good boy and obey?

Greg nodded and accepted a huge glass of water carried there by Mahtab, then he fell asleep again, eagerly waiting to speak.

-I want Papa to tell me a story of horses. – Belle climbed out of bed after she was put there again and again by Christine, now for the fourth time.

\- Papa is busy and he can't tell you a story, dear. He is away. – Christine sighed, partly irritated by Belle's disobedience, and of course, much more irritated by Erik's unexplained absence. Erik, Mahtab and Gregory were missing and no one saw them all day. What has happened to them, oh Lord?

\- Papa always tells me a story. He never goes away without that. – Belle really could not stay in bed and obey.

\- But Belle, now he isn't here and you shall sleep. – Christine did not lose her patience often, especially not with the children. She remembered only Noel was able to make her nearly lose it, but in the end she always managed to stay calm. But at that time, she was really close to it, as not only the small girl was making her upset.

\- I want Papa! – She demanded.

\- Belle, I want you to sleep! Now! – Christine shook her finger at Belle, who climbed out of bed yet again.

\- But I want Papa! – She cried. – Where is Papa?

\- Go back to bed or you will be punished!

\- No!

\- Belle!

\- I am Papa's little Princess and I do what I want! – She stomped her small foot against the floor and proudly walked out of the room.

\- Come back this instant, Belle! – Christine jumped up from the edge of the bed and now she started to understand why Erik said it was sometimes a hard task not to spank the children for him. She would have so done it right now.

Finally, Christine did not spank Belle, but she was in a rather bad mood after a long tantrum the girl made and she wasn't able to put the girl to bed for another hour. By the end of that hour Christine wasn't any better than a living dead. Thankfully all the other children were asleep by that time, and the Daroga was waiting for her to appear in the salon with a cup of strong hot coffee.

\- I am going to have a talk with my sweet husband when he finally shows up. – Christine sat down in an armchair tiredly.

\- He will deserve it. – The Persian agreed.

\- Are you sure you don't know about where he is? – Christine's brows furrowed in suspicion. – You two had some small talks earlier sometimes.

\- I… I don't know. – The Daroga lied. – At least, I am not sure. – He added some seconds later to make the obvious lie look a bit less obvious. Of course, Christine wasn't so easy to fool.

\- Why Mahtab and Erik did have that creepy doll Mahtab was practicing on? – She turned to the Persian with the sudden realization.

\- Christine, you ask things I really am not sure about… but…

\- Tell me what you know. – Christine's lips got as thin as a blade, and her pale face turned red from fury.

\- They only do it to help. – The Persian sighed. – At least… they mean well.

There was nothing else to do, but the Persian needed to tell Christine about Erik's plan about the surgery, and the fact they maybe disappeared to complete it.

\- And, as you knew about it, you just waited for them to do it, and passively agreed? You were the policeman! Why didn't you interfere?

\- What should I have done, Christine? – The Daroga sighed. – It is really not the best thing, but I can understand why Erik did it, and… I couldn't have interfered anyway. I am not a policeman anymore, I was one only in Persia, a long time ago. Erik clearly isn't afraid of me and I am an old man already. If I told the police here about it, I had no proof. And Gregory is just an orphan no one really cares about. He has no parents or any relatives who wished or could have protected him, and the government only would have put him in an orphanage if he was taken from the family. I think even Erik's surgery is better than an orphanage. Especially here.

\- I understand what you say… but why can't Erik just stay still and not make trouble?

\- Erik is Erik. – The Daroga shook his head. – He isn't ever going to take a 180 degree turn. His old stubborn mad scientist self is still there, and it gets on surface sometimes. Especially that he is old. Christine, he wants to show he is still capable of doing good, and wants to feel useful. We can still hope things turn out the best way possible.

As the Daroga did not know where that apartment was where Erik took Gregory, they could not go and find them. They had to wait until someone arrives home from the group. It was Mahtab who arrived back the earliest, he tried to sneak inside the apartment through the kitchen door which opened to the backyard. He was caught when he headed to Erik's room to collect some necessities for his father to be able to stay at the apartment with Greg for more days.

\- What are you doing, Mahtab? – Christine asked suddenly, behind his back.

\- I am collecting some of Papa's clothes. – He replied naturally. Though he was surprised to get caught, he did not get embarrassed. He had a plan for this opportunity. – Papa has to travel for some days and he has no time to come home.

\- And where does he have to travel so abruptly?

\- Flo has a concert in Liverpool in two weeks and Papa has to make some preparations.

\- Really? And why don't I know about this already?

\- It is a sudden opportunity. We only got to know about it now.

\- And how much time will this take?

\- Only a few days. A week at most.

\- I wish to accompany you then, to see Papa for a last time before he travels. – Christine stated with a determined smile.

\- Well, he won't have time for talking, he is already waiting for me at the station. I can walk faster, that's why he did not come back.

\- It's nothing. – Christine shook her head. – I still wish to see him, even for the short time of waving to him, or maybe, for a small kiss.

Mahtab could see he could not convince his mother to stay at home, and with a small hesitation, he led Christine out of the apartment. They were walking on the street, with a suitcase for Erik, and Mahtab's mind was racing what to say or do now, to be able to keep the secret. As he found out, there was no need to anymore, as Christine said softly after a time:

\- And now, Mahtab, take me to the place where you and Papa keep Gregory after the operation.

He looked at his mother with a scared expression in his mismatched eyes, and he did squint involuntarily, just as always when he got too much embarrassed to handle it. It was a treat he had since infancy, a strange extra treat of his deformity, as she never noticed such a thing with Erik, only Mahtab. Seeing the teen could not react all of a sudden, she put her hands on her hips and asked on a disappointed tone:

\- Did you think I did not know it?

Mahtab lowered his head with a deep sigh and without another word he showed the way for his mother to the apartment. When the door opened, Christine stepped in first. Erik was standing by Greg's bedside, examining the boy's throat and nodded with delight, telling the boy some encouraging words.

\- Good news to hear. – Christine stated. – Then you might come home earlier, Monsieur Spöke?

Erik suddenly turned to face his wife, and gasped, getting scared about being unveiled.

\- Gott im Himmel…- He murmured in front of himself while he had to sit down on the edge of the bed.

It happened sometimes that Erik switched to another language, especially if he was cussing, or too much surprised, and even though German was among his rarely used languages nowadays, for some reason he chosed it to express his surprise at that moment.

\- No, I am only your Christine. – She walked in front of Erik and leaned closer. – I came to see if Greg is all right.

\- She knows all of it. – Mahtab stated, without the real need of his statement: it was obvious.

\- He is… better… - Erik stuttered, being afraid of being yelled at in seconds, by his wife. He was simply too old to face the consequences.

No one said a single word in the room, the air was filled with bitterness, fear, worry and unspoken sentences of all sides. Erik was staring at his wife, begging for forgiveness, and anxiously waiting for the inevitable fight between them. Greg was worriedly examining his new parents, and was afraid they will fight because of him, when Papa only wanted the best for him…

\- Ma…ma… - They heard from the bed. – Mama…

Both of them looked at Greg in awe.

This was the first thing he said since they knew him, and though Erik, being absolutely happy by the outcome, got worried at the same time, and yet he wished to listen to that voice for more and more, he had to stop the boy from talking.

\- I told you dear, not to talk, my sweet son… but… I love your voice… I love it…

Christine hugged the small boy and cried on his shoulder in relief and happiness, then suddenly turned to her husband and hugged him tightly.

\- I am sorry Erik…. I am so sorry…

\- What for… my love? – Erik asked with surprise.

\- For not believing you could do it… you did it… you did it… I am proud of you.

\- No- no, my Christine. It wasn't me at the first place who did it. It was our son. Be proud of him.

Erik gestured towards Mahtab, who was still standing by the door, but to this, he walked closer to them.

\- Now… now I believe in you, dear. – Christine hugged Mahtab, and kissed his forehead with a mother's pure love- You will become a doctor, my son. A world famous doctor, doing miracles, and all of your patients will love you.


	77. Chapter 77

Gregory's ability to talk slowly and steadily came back. It wasn't as he imagined it in his dreams, as he never had his old voice back, and he sounded rather strange. Due to his injuries and the surgery that was performed on him, his intonation became a kind of monotone and emotionless, as he was an automaton, Christine was sometimes reminded of Cadence when she heard him speak, but she was ashamed of the thought later, and was happy to hear Gregory's voice at all. Greg was a bit of disappointed as well at first, yet he had to understand he was very ill, and it was impossible to get his old voice back – but his disappointment was washed away by the fact he was finally able to word his thoughts without help. For some months his voice was rather gruff and he needed to take care of not to talk too much in the first few weeks as Erik warned hi his throat was still too much vulnerable and not to be overstrained. Also, his voice sometimes faded away after a few sentences in a row, and he would need to start it again after he wasn't even able to whisper, but he LOVED to talk. And his family loved to hear him talk.

Love was around in the whole family, so peaceful, everyone was helping each other… And Gregory finally learned what love is.

Yet… there are different kinds of love.

A child loves their parents, parents love their children, siblings love each other, and there is that special kind of love that is felt for that one person on the world… well, in the right case, at least. Florian, however wasn't the right case in this matter. He was in love all the time, but not with the same person for too long. He was already 14 years old, a successful musician, of course, in the center of attention of both the aristocracy and young girls. Of course, Flo was much happier about the latter than the former. He loved to give concerts, of course, and music was his passion, but he had another burning passion now, which made him extremely happy. Since that concert on which he learned an important lesson, and he wasn't that prideful little brat any more, he noticed girls tend to like him a lot more, and he used it. Not in an immoral way, of course. He just liked to be with beautiful and kind girls, talking to them, smiling a lot, laughing and of course, slightly playing the role of a small Don Juan. He returned handkerchiefs, kissed hands, and sent tempting smiles with delight. He was in love with love itself. Each and every beautiful little girl set his heart on fire, and he thought he was in love.

\- I can't hold your hand all the time. – Erik remarked once, when they were returning home after a concert and they sat next to each other in the carriage. – And I don't even want to. All I want to say is be careful, as I do not wish to be a grandfather for a few years still.

\- I am too young for that, Papa. – Flo looked at Erik, blushing.

\- We both agree. – Erik nodded strictly. – But it can happen if you go on like this.

\- We only were talking with Marie. – Flo stuttered in utter embarrassment.

\- About some secrets, eh? – Erik snorted.

\- Why do you think…?

\- Because only secrets require so little distance between the two of you. Her mouth must have been very close to your ear as it has rouge over it.

Flo nearly sank as he was wiping his ear with his handkerchief, trying to avoid eye contact with his father.

\- As I said, I don't wish to be the guarder dame to you, as I can't be and don't even want to. You are old enough not to commit stupid things, or at least I hope so. You are young, and all of the young boys act like you do now. All I want to ask is slow down a bit and don't do anything stupid. We talked about this before and you know what not to do. Don't do that.

\- And if we just kiss…? – He asked hopefully.

\- If she won't slap you for it, then kiss. I don't care. But if I hear you do other things, I will bite your nose off. Understood?

\- Completely. – He nodded.

Erik hoped this small talk did its job. He did not really wish to interfere with his son's love affairs. They were totally innocent anyway, and he had another love of his life in every month. Though when he was younger, he wished to marry Sophie, two years of living in distance made him change his mind about it, and he dared to search for other girls to court. He sometimes had two or three at once, and with his popularity he did not have to pick only one. He wrote smaller songs to serenade with, and gave one single flower to each of the girls he started to like. He was dancing with young girls at balls, sending out love letters which was mostly signed as "your loving Flo".

It was going on like this for a year.

No one bat an eye at his love life, and no one took him too seriously, from either his own family, or the families of the girls, he was an artist, he was just one of those boys courting their daughters, knowing none of the affairs were to be serious. A small Mozart, a boheme, a child of theater. His mother was an opera singer, to begin with, he was raised in the manner of opera plays, as they thought, and so, they were a bit more forgiving with Florian than they would have been with any other teenage boys. There is no chance for marriage, and the nurses of the girls were keeping an eye at the couples all the time, so they had no opportunity to do inappropriate things. Erik talked to him as a man to a man a few times, it was way easier to him than the one he did to Mahtab, as Florian was really, lawfully a boy, and they could discuss the same anatomy issues, and Erik wasn't embarrassed by that fact. Flo seemed to be mature and responsible enough to understand these talks, Erik at least hoped so.

And then, Florian found the ONE true love… or so he thought. That one girl was special because she did not follow him around like a fangirl, or did not show any sign of interest at all. Finally a girl that he has to work hard to get, and won't let him kiss her for the first ask, and not even for the tenth. Her name was Bonnie, and they met at a concert he gave. She politely congratulated him after the performance and gave a kind smile, but nothing more, and it was sympathetic for Flo. He felt he needed to have that girl, as she will be the perfect wife. He also knew he had to slow down with courting Bonnie. She wasn't like the others who fainted of happiness just because they received one single rose. Bonnie received many love letters from Flo, which were full of endearments, and described the impression the girl had on him, with her beauty and modesty. Bonnie was truly nice looking, with her deep brown eyes, brown hair and rose colored skin, with naturally cherry colored thick lips. She was graceful as a flower, all of her movements reflected true elegance, yet she wasn't a daughter of a noble family. She was from an upper middle- class family, her father was a teacher at a Secondary School he taught Latin and History. Bonnie was educated, she had a good taste in literature, art, music and she was talented in drawing and painting. She loved to paint in her free time, and once she sent a portrait of Flo, holding his violin to him, as a gift. This made Flo a bit more self- confident about the plan of making Bonnie fall in love with him, but he got disappointed about the girl sent a letter to him in which she clearly stated she never thought of anything more of Flo than a friend, that though, being a very close one. She also implied a foggy sentence of not being able to feel any more than friendship for any of the men, which Flo did not understand. She also informed Flo she never wished to marry, and apologized for the disappointment she was going to cause him with this confession. The truth was she did not dare to tell this to Flo in person, but she hoped they could still be friends. Flo decided to leave it at that, as he learned earlier that girls are able to change their mind about a relationship within time. It is better not to rush anything. He thankfully was better at handling rejection than his father and was able to take no for an answer. He kept the portrait on his wall above his bed, and would admire it many times. Not because he was so in love with himself, but because he loved to see how very talented Bonnie was with painting. Even Erik and Christine had to admit that the portrait was a very accurate one, focusing on Flo's most significant features, which made it very lifelike.

\- Just as if I saw my father. – Christine sighed dreamily, upon looking at the picture, caressing the frame. – I bet Flo will look just like Papa when he grows up. Oh, how Papa would be proud, knowing Flo is a virtuoso with violin.

\- He must have inherited it from his grandfather, I am happy we named him after your father, Christine.

\- You always know what to tell me to make me feel good. You are a master of sweet talk if you want something. – Christine laughed at her husband.

\- I want nothing special. – Erik shrugged. – Only love till the grave and beyond.

\- Oh you. – Christine smiled and shook his head. She blew a kiss towards Erik who pretended to catch it in the air and blew one back at Christine.

Throughout the years, they learned to love each other so freely and as happily as two teens.

One morning, Flo was running to his father as excitedly as if he was just composing a masterpiece, at least, only that made him so excited before.

\- Papa, Papa, look! – He jumped in front of Erik, who was trying to feed the cat and stopping Belle from climbing on his back at the same time.

\- You, dear, are a bit of too old for this horseplay, you are already a small lady. What's that, Flo? – He lifted his head up to examine his son, but he noticed nothing special.

\- Can you see it? – Flo went on with endless excitement.

\- Can I see what, my son?

\- My mustache! – Flo leaned closer with pride.

True, there were some brown hair under his nose, though it was hardly visible from a distance. Though he did not want to take Florian's enthusiasm away, so he nodded with a smile.

\- Oh yes, my son, very nice.

\- I am a man now! – He clapped.

\- Being a man is not about your mustache or the lack of it, but the fact you are able to support yourself and your family. – Erik pointed out. – I don't have a mustache, yet I am a man, don't you agree?

\- But you still have to shave some. – Flo baulked.

\- True, yet I never had a mustache, only some pitiful excuse for a beard. – Erik shook his head with a forgiving smile.

\- Still, I was the only one in the family among the men who did not yet shave. Even Noel shaves nowadays.

\- Noel does not actually shave but steals my cologne water and dabbles his face in soap every morning for five minutes then washes it off to pretend he does. – Erik chuckled. - He is a good actor.

No matter what Erik said about facial hair and its insignificance, Flo still thought he was manlier with it. If it is not the right way to make Bonnie notice him as a man, then nothing. Flo was taking extremely long time in the bathroom before his next concert, to brush his mustache. It took a lot of time because there was nothing to brush, yet Flo liked challenges, and was determined in taking an impression on Bonnie.

Erik wasn't able to accompany Florian to that said concert. Belle fell ill that evening, and even though Christine wanted to take care of her and sit on her bedside, Belle requested Papa to stay with her as well with Mama, and she begged him to sing her to sleep. Erik did not mind staying home for once, and knew his young daughter needs his presence, but did not wish to let Flo leave all alone, as he still needed guidance, and well, he would have felt calmer if the small Don Juan was restrained and kept an eye at by someone else. Of course, said someone else was Mahtab, him being the oldest and most responsible of the siblings. Flo did not mind to go with Mahtab – on the contrary. Finally he was able to spend some quality time again with Mahtab, and he liked the fact that his older brother was socializing with others. He also hoped Mahtab will eventually find someone for himself. Yet he could not have expected who it might be…

After the concert Bonnie went to congratulate Flo, just as usual, and when she noticed Flo had another company, and Flo introduced his older brother to her, she could not have told why but she had a strange yet warm feeling as Mahtab smiled at her shyly and politely took her delicate little hand for a kiss. She found Mahtab's name a bit of unusual, but complimented it nonetheless. She did not know yet it was a female name actually, and that Mahtab wasn1t an ordinary boy she just met… yet she felt it.

They started talking, and Bonnie found out Mahtab was very educated and polite, yet extremely shy for some reason. He was nothing like his younger brother who grabbed her hand for a kiss so vehemently, and who was clearly trying to talk her into bed at some point. Yet Flo, thank Goodness, had already stopped acting so intrusively towards her, she appreciated Mahtab's behavior way more than Flo's.

Mahtab liked Bonnie a lot, and the smiles he gave her were surprisingly honest ones, not acted out, and not awkward. They spent some time together, until Flo finally got tired of the fact he wasn't paid attention of, and obviously Mahtab is way more to Bonnie's liking than him. Well, only once he takes Mahtab out, and the brother instantly tries to stela his… love interest? He grabbed Mahtab's sleeve some times and said.

\- We shall go home, you know Belle is ill. – He sent an envious glance towards his brother, and Mahtab instantly realized the intents behind it.

As they were sitting in the carriage on the way home, Mahtab looked at Flo penitently, who slightly turned his back towards him, and did not say a word.

\- Flo…- He started softly.

\- Yes? – The younger boy groaned, not looking at Mahtab.

\- I am sorry if I made you upset. Bonnie is indeed a kind and beautiful girl…

\- She is. – He barked, not waiting for Mahtab to finish his sentence.

\- Flo, you know how I am. – Mahtab started again, after some pause. – No woman will ever love me because of my oddity. You were smaller, but… do you remember my affair with… Julie?

\- Yes. – Flo's voice turned to a compassionate one as he started to remember what happened and how depressed Mahtab was in those weeks. He turned to face Mahtab, who was obviously crying even now, recalling the events.

\- Brother… I am not planning on falling in love with Bonnie. But… if you allowed me to have some other friends than my siblings… if she ever wishes me as a friend…

\- Mahtab… - Flo sniffed as well and hugged Mahtab tightly on the neck. – Forgive my silliness… no girl could ever separate us… we are brothers and it means everything.

\- So you are not angry with me? – Mahtab asked, unintentionally slipping into a girl1s range.

\- But of course not… I love you…

\- I love you too. – Mahtab smiled, and dried his little brother1s eyes with his handkerchief.


	78. Chapter 78

Flo and Mahtab never ever fought over women any more, on the contrary. The younger brother started to give tips to the older one, to be more effective with girls, and to be able to say things the "other gender" really loves. Mahtab, though, was much better at complimenting Bonnie, seemingly, as the girl accepted them more happily from Mahtab than from Flo. Florian guessed it was because Mahtab is, biologically a girl after all, and they maybe know better what girls usually like. Their brain works in a different way, as Papa explained before, and Mahtab, yet he liked to deny he had anything to do with girls, maybe had a male and a female brain at the same time as Flo imagined it. This female brain helped him to get closer to Bonnie, but Flo did not mind it any more.

Flo started to lose his interest in a girl like Bonnie and did not want to get closer to the girl any more, only as a friend. He would have preferred of course, if a girl is hard to get, and he had to make efforts courting her, but Bonnie's distance was sometimes too much for him. He had been trying to impress her for another half a year, but he had to realize Bonnie was much more interested in Mahtab than him, though they weren't passionate lovers, only seemed to be like really good friends. Mahtab and Bonnie were able to share interests. As Mahtab also loved to draw and had a lively imagination, Flo often caught those two discussing art and their ideas about artworks they were planning to do.

\- I would like to ask for permission if you allowed me to draw your portrait as I did your brother's. – Bonnie said once, examining Mahtab from close.

\- You will soon own an art gallery out of the portraits of my family. – Mahtab let out a nervous chuckle with a much Erik- y remark, and started to unintentionally wonder how much he really resembles his father.

Of course, Mahtab was aware the portrait Bonnie was planning to paint with so much endeavor, wasn't his real portrait. The girl only drew an illusion which was made by Papa to save him from the reality of the cruel world, and he was sure if Bonnie saw his real face and knew about his dark little secret, she sure wouldn't be his friend.

\- Are you sad? – Bonnie asked suddenly.

\- No. – Mahtab hurried with the reply. – I am all fine.

\- You looked to be a bit of sad. – Bonnie wished to make sure her friend was really in a good mood before starting to draw.

\- I was merely lamenting about something. – Mahtab sighed sadly, yet Bonnie mistook her friend's feelings for tiredness or just artistic mood swings, so she did not ask anything else.

The teen was sometimes feeling uncomfortable about Bonnie staring at him for long time while she was examining his features for a lifelike outcome. Mahtab sometimes feared the girl will somehow find out his face was only a mask. He examined the mask for a long time in the mirror at home in the bathroom, carefully looking for details which could give away it being only a disguise. He could not find any, after an hour and a half, as Papa was real great with making lifelike masks no one was able to identify as fake ones. Though, the thoughts did not leave him alone about his fears, and he only knew one person to talk to about these thoughts who will understand them fully.

\- Papa… - He tucked his head into the salon at three o clock in the dawn, finding Erik playing chess with himself.

\- Yes? – Erik looked up with a hint of worry. – Should you not be in bed already?

\- I am nearly 19. – Mahtab shrugged. – I am not a baby any more.

\- I keep forgetting you will all be grown up one day. – He shrugged apologetically. – To me you will always be my small children I have to protect. I maybe treat you younger than you are, because it is not too long ago for me when you were born. – Erik closed his eyes, sighing dreamily. – I still remember the time you were a toddler and you followed me around constantly.

\- I know what you mean. – Mahtab smiled and sat down next to his father. – And why don1t you sleep Papa? Are you ill?

\- No. – Erik shook his head, being touched about his child worries about his health. – Sometimes I just can't sleep. It happened through all my life. Do not worry.

\- Papa, as you are awake… I am actually happy for this fact because I can talk to you without others hearing us.

\- Is there something personal you wish to discuss with your Papa? – Erik stroke Mahtab's hair with two fingers as he knew it always calmed the child.

\- Yes. – He nodded. – Papa, if someone loves you for… something they THINK they love you for… is it a good thing?

\- You have just asked the hardest question to answer my son. – Erik scratched his head. – Is this conversation about you and that "Bonnie"?

\- Do you know about her? – He inquired cautiously.

\- I am not blind nor deaf, my dear child, contrary to my age. And I always keep an eye at you, my dears. I know about everything that occupies your minds.

\- So… Bonnie thinks I am a boy with a handsome face. – Mahtab explained. – And I wonder if I shall tell her the truth or she will eventually find out herself, which will be a catastrophe.

\- I wish I knew the answer to this. – Erik sighed deeply, recalling the events of the past. – The fact your mother and I got married, I believe is the work of mere coincidences, after the circumstances she saw my face among. – Erik took another deep sigh and massaged his temples, just as always when he had to remember a painful episode of his past- which was nearly all the time, seeing how his past was. – I am not sure what would have happened if I start courting Mama honestly, telling her the truth and showing my face. But… I know that once… eventually she has to find it out if you will get close to each other. You just can1t keep up an illusion forever. What happens if your mask gets damaged for some reason? If it slips off…? If you have to remove it for some reason? And… I doubt she should find out how your face is on your wedding night when you remove the mask for bed. – Erik cleared his throat.

\- But I am afraid if she finds out the truth she will run away for good.

\- That's what I was terrified of about Mama. – Erik nodded knowingly. – And this is why I acted the way I did, in the end. I haven't slept for nights before I took her to my house, Mahtab, trying to find out the best solution, and I am sure I did not find that back then. I would advise you to… be as honest as you can… I am sorry I can't give you a better advice, my son, but I still don't know what should I have done with your mother, and so I don't really know what should you do.

\- Papa, is it a solution if I tell the truth without showing her my face?

\- I doubt. – Erik shook his head firmly. – Women are very inquisitive, Mahtab… they painfully are… they need to SEE. – Erik's intonation changed to a broken one, as if he wanted to cry a bit, but in the end he took an effort not to.

\- I just want her to know… me. The real me. And… I think there are only a few people who can love someone like me… but if I never try the limits, I shall never know.

\- I just don't want you to suffer like I did, Mahtab. A face like ours gives you… much pain, I don't want your heart to be as broken as mine. Do not take whatever happens too seriously. Try not to, son. It goes as it goes.

\- Do you mean I shall not love anyone too deeply so they can't harm me?

\- I try to say you shall not love EVERYONE so deeply, as you do now. You shall be cautious and a bit of cynical. This is the only way to survive without too deep scars in your heart.

\- I am already cynical. – He admitted. – I realize I use sentences like you do usually.

\- All the better. – Erik nodded. – Keep doing so.

\- Thank you Papa. – Mahtab hugged Erik lovingly and placed a soft kiss on his father's uncovered skull head.

None of them wore a mask at that early hour at home, they did not have to be afraid of visitors, and they were not repulsed by each other's features. They could be themselves in front of each other. Mahtab wished to be so intimate with a girl once… without any boundaries, showing his real self.

While Mahtab was trying to figure out when and how to confess his feelings and real self to Bonnie, and was lamenting about he should tell it the soonest possible as the later he admits the harder the healing process after such a painful scenario will be both for the girl and him, there was another strange issue going on in the family.

Florian started acting real strange. He was absent- minded, dreamy and his studies got really stuck. His homework Erik had to check became more and more flawed, even at the subject he used to be good at. He started making horrendous grammar errors in French, even though the family used that language to speak among each other, and even Gregory, who started to learn French just two years ago when they found him, started to get better in it than Flo. Erik was really annoyed by this fact, as it indicated his son wasn't paying enough attention to the tasks he was doing. Flo also started to be a bit of drowsy during the day, as if he wasn't sleeping at all during the night. He was still studious with music though, but nothing else. He was whistling silly and cheerful little songs, sometimes jumping through the rooms and clapping his hands delightedly.

\- What makes you so happy, Florian? – Erik called out to him suspiciously as he was waving his messed up homework at him yet again. – Because it is definitely not your knowledge in History. – He snorted.

\- Why? – Flo asked, not even really bothering to listen to his father's mountain speech. – Isn't it good?

\- Good? – Erik gasped. – You ask if it isn't good?

Here came a half an hour long preaching by the annoyed father, who accused his son of carelessness, laziness and thanklessness, however he should be thankful someone actually gives a damn about his schooling, and someone cares about him at all, unlike his father who had to learn everything by himself and hardly anyone ever helped him with anything. Flo apologized and mechanically promised he was going to take more effort with his duties, but Erik wasn't pleased by the result of the scolding.

Flo was given two weeks of patience, yet his homework turned out to be just as bad, and he was yawning in the face of Erik during a History lesson again. Not by annoyance, tiredness. Erik was fed up at this point. He knew it was no use of talking to Flo any more. It went in at one ear and out at the other, as he already tried it. Flo only gave nonsense answers like he was fine, nothing bothered him and so on. Erik knew his son was dishonest, and he wished to know why. Was he into something illegal?

As he could not find it out by talking to Flo, he chose the illegal way as well: someone shall spy on Flo. It sure can't be him. He was good at following people around- 20 years ago. Now, he as a more than 70 years old man, wasn't able to run as fast and climb up on gutters as he was before. And he was seriously afraid even if he could follow Flo around without trouble, he'd get too much upset by a crime his son would do, and worried he'd end up beating the boy up too much in a sudden outrage. Mahtab, even though he was also a great follower, he simply lacked the naughtiness and was too much of a mimosa for a task like this. He wasn't a "real" man after all, some of the girly side still was present in his personality. Belle and Greg are still too young for a task like this, and Christine would definitely find this idea a way too cruel one and she would ruin everything by warning Flo instead, so not enough Christine shall not be the one doing so, but she shall not even know about the plan. The Daroga was a chief of police back in Persia, and though it required great skills of spying, the problem was just the same as it was with Erik. The Daroga was also quite in age, and Erik doubted he would ever spy on a child. Yet there is one suitable person for the job in the family: the naughty, laughably fidgety and spry Noel, who would die for an opportunity to tell about Flo. Noel was the perfect person: in personality he was the most like Erik among the children, and he was always into naughtiness.

Of course, Noel accepted the job offer right away when Erik asked him. He did not have a second thought about it, especially after Erik offered him some allowance as a prize for good work if he was able to find out something important. Erik had to chuckle after leaving the boy's room: Noel was just so much like him. His eyes shone with just as much greedy interest after money was mentioned, and all of his movements like a young teenage Erik's, only with a perfectly handsome look. And so was his brain and thoughts like his… Erik was sure he did not have to disappoint in his youngest son. The job would be perfectly done.

He did not have to wait too much for the news. Noel was really awesome with spying as three days after the commission he showed up in his father's study, with a sketchbook in his hands.

\- Here is the address Flo visits every night. – Noel handed the paper to Erik with the seriousness of a private detective, who gasped loudly at the news.

\- What?... How…? Why?

\- After bedtime, he sneaks out of the window of his room and is heading to this street. He then knocks three times on a window at the lowest floor of the building where he is let in, then he climbs inside and only climbs out in the dawn when he returns home and comes home just the way he left.

\- And… what is he doing at that place…? – Erik dried his sweaty forehead with his handkerchief.

\- He meets a girl.

Erik jumped up furiously at that sentence, of course, not like he did not know before what was happening there, one could easily guess. Noel, though, unlike his usual childish self, now looked to be serious just like an adult and put his hand on his father's shoulder and gently but decidedly pushed Erik back on his seat.

\- Listen carefully Papa, I am not yet done. They aren't doing anything indecent, at least not in the three days I was looking at them.

\- How do you know what is indecent and what is not, you are still a child. – Erik groaned.

\- Everyone knows- other than babies of course; how children are made. – Noel shrugged. – They did not make children, they were just talking and kissing.

\- Is that girl is the Bonnie he was in love with?

\- No. – Noel shook his head. – She is a new lover of Florian's, as I later was informed her name is Lily. She is an orphan and lives with her aunt who is just an old witch between 70 and death, and is deaf, so she can1t hear if Flo is there during the night or not. And even if she did, I doubt he knows what happens between a man and a woman as she was never married as she was just as a witch in her younger years as she is now.

\- Be more respectful towards an old lady. – Erik scolded his son out of routine, but mechanically slipped money in his hand.

\- Thank you, Monsieur. – Noel bowed and turned away to walk out of the room. – I do hope we are going to make a new deal again soon.

\- Noel… - Erik called out and when the boy turned back to face him, he softly whispered: - Keep your eyes open.

\- Will do, Papa. – Noel smirked and left Erik there with his thoughts.


	79. Chapter 79

After seemingly everyone went to sleep in the house, one of the doors opened and a teen figure tucked his head out of it. He looked around nervously, then noticing he was finally alone, he hurried through the salon as fast as he could, praying no one shall notice him. He opened the front door and looked behind his back several times, worrying he was followed by someone. He had that impression in the last three days or so, and he could not get rid of that uncomfortable feeling. As he was finally outside on the street, he brushed some messy dark hair out of his forehead, and started walking forward toward the corner of the street, where suddenly someone jumped in front of him.

He was scared by the sudden movement, fearing it was a robber, and he started trembling in fear. Stepping back, and putting his hand in his pocket, he was waiting anxiously for the happenings.

\- Where are you going? – He heard a familiar voice in front of himself, and opening his eyes he subconsciously closed from fear, he noticed his younger brother standing in front of him, showing his full height.

Noel was a bit of frightening with his pale face and thin and tall form, standing motionlessly on the street corner, pointing at Flo. The older boy wiped his forehead of relief and shook his head in dismay.

\- You should go back to bed, Noel.

\- And so should you. – The younger one retorted. – What are you doing every night? Tell me.

\- It is not your business. And… and it is… so I'd say you don't understand it anyway.

\- No, I don't understand why you visit a girl every night. What is your plan with her?

\- So you know. – Flo sighed.

\- I do. – Noel nodded knowingly. – I noticed. I have very sharp eyes.

\- Then slice bread with them! – Flo yelled at Noel with irritation, but he regretted it right away and apologized.

\- I understand you are angry I noticed your secret. – Noel put his hand on Flo's shoulder with a supporting touch of a brother. – The only problem is I am not the only one who noticed.

\- Does Papa know as well? – Flo inhaled sharply of being scared.

\- He does. You'd better go back home and stop it. He is angry with you lately and I don't want you to get in trouble.

\- I can't stop it now. – Flo looked around in despair. – I… I can't. But… Noel, do you tell everything to Papa I tell you?

\- No. – The younger brother shook his head. – But you should.

\- I have to… once… soon.

\- You do have to. – Noel reassured. – But tonight, I guess you would better walk back to your room and sleep. You know that Papa will ask you about the History lesson about the Greeks and you have to study as you did not even start it. Flo, you can't ignore everything else other than this girl.

\- How can you be so serious compared to your age?

\- Someone has to be in this family other than Mahtab, when you are a complete bon vivant, and the others are either young or girls.

\- Why do you say girls are bad? – Flo snorted, agreeably turning back to walk back into their house.

\- They are not bad, only girls. – Noel shrugged. – I just can't understand what you love about them so much. They are so boring, they can't talk of anything else than dresses, fashion, plays, and sometimes music.

\- You would be interested in a girl who loves science?

\- Maybe. – Noel shrugged again. – But listen: you shall tell Papa soon what your other secret is, because if you don't, I will find out, and will tell it!

\- If you dare to tell my secrets, I will tell him you keep explosive things in the cellar.

\- He knows about it. – Noel laughed out. – You are terrible in blackmailing. – He pointed at Flo, then narrowed his light blue eyes. – And now go back to your room, and sleep, then study.

\- Will you help me to study?

\- Maybe.

The "Maybe" of course meant yes with Noel's sarcastic style, but he would never openly offer help or admit he wanted the best to his brother, and would do anything for him.

The next day Erik was noticeably much more content with Flo's History knowledge, and was a bit of relieved his son finally regained common sense. He was slightly worried though, about the girl Flo was visiting in secret, but Noel did not say anything about them meeting anymore, so maybe the small Don Juan gave up courting? He could only hope so. Who imagined raising children won't be the worst at their infancy with many dirty diapers and crying all night long, and the fact he would gladly change a lovesick teen for a crying and messy baby at that point? As children are growing up there are worse and worse scenarios going on than some mess he had to clean up after them. Many times this mess they were into nowadays could not be cleaned. He was constantly worrying over the love issues of his older children and was thankful Noel wasn't yet interested in girls, only science and illusions. He had enough problems with two teen boys in love, and did not need the third one getting into that sweet but sad feeling anytime soon, and he seriously hoped he won't be around by the time Greg wanted to court anyone.

Unlike Flo, who wasn't afraid of courting Lily at nights, Mahtab was too shy and scared to admit his feelings and introduce his real self to Bonnie at daylights as well. He tried to do so, many times as they were either working on his portrait, or they were walking with Bonnie in a quiet park. He wasn't sure, but maybe he could see some unknown feelings in the girl's eyes as she was watching him, and she acted as she wanted to ask something, or say something, but she never spoke in the end. He wished to start talking as well, numerous times, but he rather did not say anything. He was afraid of rejection and the horror he will cause the girl with his confession. Yet he felt day by day that he could not go on like that, keeping Bonnie in a web of lies. He wanted to clear up the issue, and finally in an afternoon sitting of his portrait he closed his eyes and took an enormous step to finally start a new chapter in their relationship – who knows, maybe the final chapter, but he had to cross the line. He remembered what his father said a few weeks earlier: "It goes as it goes, whatever happens."

\- Bonnie… - He started, as the beautiful and lovable companion was mixing colors on her palette.

\- Yes? – She looked up with interest.

\- I need to talk to you, as you are my dearest friend, and I wish to tell you the truth about myself.

\- The truth? – She leaned closer worriedly. – What do you mean, Mahtab?

\- Have you ever felt…- He started slowly, - that you constantly have to wear a mask for people to accept you?

There was a bit of silence and Bonnie opened her mouth in surprise. Mahtab did not know what had happened, maybe the girl already started to get disgusted about his confession…?

\- How did you know that I often feel like that? – She asked softly.

\- I did not know… - Mahtab smiled in relief. – But at least you know what I feel.

\- So you feel so too? Why? – She stood up from her seat and walked closer to sit next to her friend. She felt like being closer to him might help.

\- Because I have secrets no one but my family knows about me, and I have to admit I was dishonest with you as well, up until this point. But now I wish to tell the truth about myself if you can accept it.

\- Tell me everything about yourself! – She patted Mahtab's gloved hand reassuringly and it felt so good he was talking more freely right away.

\- At first… I have already mentioned my name was Persian.

\- Yes.

\- But… I haven't mentioned you what Europeans don't know about the name Mahtab. It is... it isn't a male name. – Mahtab turned his face away slightly, not to see horror on Bonnie's face upon hearing such a news.

\- Are you a girl? – Bonnie asked, but her voice did not reflect sadness or disappointment. Strangely, it sounded like excitement.

\- I was born as a female. – Mahtab continued. – But from a very young age I feel like… I am trapped in the wrong body. I feel like I am a boy, and I have always been. This is why I try my best to be like a boy, and live like one, even changing my body as much as I can, to make up for… the mistake of nature.

\- So your mustache isn't real?

\- No. – Mahtab shook his head.

\- I knew you weren't like other boys. – Bonnie smiled gladly. – So this is why!

\- Are you not disgusted about how I feel? – Mahtab inquired cautiously, not really understanding what was going on.

\- Not at all, Mahtab. – Bonnie shook her head understandingly. – Because I have to tell you I feel something similar. Just as you said, it is so shameful I can't tell it to anyone… because people would…

\- Call you disgusting…

\- Yes. – She nodded. – Because… do you remember… what I told Florian? I can never imagine to get married… as I have to admit, Mahtab, I do not like boys. Or to be clear, not on a romantic way, like all girls should. I… I always… was sure I was attracted to girls.

For a short period of time none of them spoke even a word, they were trying to work things up in their minds and examine the reactions of the other. As Bonnie did not notice disgust about her confession, she continued:

\- I always wanted to have someone… someone like you… who understands… and… oh you don't know how relieved I am you are not an ordinary boy…

\- I am calmer you say so, because I love you… I love you more than someone would love a friend.

\- I am sure I feel the same way, but I was confused about my feelings. Thinking you were a boy like your brother and knowing I liked you more… I was confused maybe I felt otherwise… but I am now relieved I did not change and my feelings are just the same.

\- So if there wasn't any more bothering circumstances… maybe you would be in a love relationship with me?

\- Bothering circumstances? – Bonnie asked with worry. – What do you mean, dear?

\- Being a girl isn't my deepest secret and maybe it will be much harder to handle. Oh… Bonnie… you know… my mustache isn't the only feature on my face which isn't real. I am literally… wearing a mask.

\- Why?

\- Because of a birth defect. – Mahtab said softly, closing his eyes. – I am… ugly.

\- You can't be. A birth defect is nothing you can do about. I am sure it is not that bad. May I see your face?

\- I would show you if I was a hundred percent sure it won't cause you horror, but…

\- Please trust me. I wish to know you. Now that you trusted me enough to tell me your deepest secrets, I am honored, and am sure I won't betray your trust by getting disgusted of your real face. Please show me.

\- Please… if you find it scary… try not to faint.

Mahtab slowly removed his human mask, showing his real face to Bonnie. He was staring at her, and though Bonnie got slightly surprised as she hadn't seen such a deformity yet, she did not scream or called him ugly. The first sentence that left Bonnie's lips, wasn't "Oh my God what an ugly face!" or "Monster" but the sweetest and most caring sentence he ever heard from someone who wasn't biologically related to him:

\- Does it hurt you don't have a nose, my poor dear?

\- Oh… no, it doesn't. – He stuttered nervously. – Aren't you scared?

\- Of what? My lover?

Mahtab could not reply right away. He was too touched to say a thing, and looking at Bonnie, he found her much more beautiful in a blink of an eye. Acceptence makes everything more beautiful.


	80. Chapter 80

\- How much gunpowder would one need to send an umbrella up in outer space?

The ominously determined and half –excited murmuring hit Erik's ear from his right, and turning his head into the direction of the voice, his glance met the figure of a ready-to experiment Noel, holding Christine's umbrella to his shoulder as a soldier would hold a gun.

\- You are not allowed to blow up Mama's favorite umbrella. – Erik used his "strict father" intonation, knowing his son won't understand any other way. – If you want to try it why won't you use your own as a test object?

\- Because I hate London and its climate with all the rain. Mama has more, I have only one.

\- And why an umbrella? – Erik went on.

\- Because Belle won't give me any of her stupid dolls. I have asked her nicely many times and I also said Nina will meet the Sun, but she won't give it to me.

\- It is not nice to blow up your family's belongings. – Erik shook his finger at Noel, who obediently but grumpily put the umbrella back on its place, and walked closer to his father. – Good boy, right way to act. – He praised the boy out of routine, just as always when he was successfully saving the boy or the family from one of Noel's sudden crazy ideas. The world, or at least an umbrella, was saved again, Erik said it was good enough and called it a day. He was sure though, that Noel, just like his younger self, was going to suffer for scientific reasons, a lot, if he won't be able to save him anymore from his mind. He sometimes caught himself asking God for help, and he now understood why the few people who actually ever cared for him in his youth, were half- mad with worry upon hearing about his new inventions and the hard way to build them.

\- I am still going to make up an invention which will allow people to fly to see other planets. – Noel stated with determination, with his eyes shining from pride and love for science.

\- I know you are, son. – Erik nodded knowingly, and stroke the boy's hair. – If anyone is going to be successful with it, it is you.

With a huge grin all over his face, Noel turned around and ran out of the room, searching for possible helpless victims of his mastermind. Erik wondered for a few minutes that out of all of his children, it's Noel who resembles him the most mentally, emotionally and in a way, physically as well. Erik also often considered the possibility if the temporary lack of oxygen at birth which both him and his youngest living son had to suffer through, was responsible for their strange mental state and their resemblance in that matter. He could not help, but think with a doctor's mind sometimes, but as he wasn't able to help that with either himself or Noel any more, these were mostly only musings no one else was aware of.

\- Look what I drew for you! – Now a paper was shoved under his nonexistent nose, so close to his eyes, it would have touched his nose if he had one. – Is it nice?

Well, Erik, if he was still his old self, would probably have told the over excited little Belle, who was eagerly jumping from foot to foot, that the drawing he received resembled nothing he could have identified, and it looked like a spider who was brutally sent to its painful death by an orange, which was also killed in action, leaving its juice flowing all over, just as if it was blood. But who can say such things to an excited child? A madman, for sure. Why to criticize art of a young child to destroy their dreams and pride?

\- What a nice… horse. – Erik smiled, not being a hundred percent sure it was indeed a horse, but as Belle was in love with horses, it was a safe guess.

\- Not a horse, a Unicorn. – She corrected.

\- Oh, but of course, it is. Sorry dear. – He let Belle to climb up on his lap for some minutes, and explain the whole scenario the illustration was based on. She had lively imagination, for sure. She told Erik a story she made up about a baby Unicorn who was found by a farmer and kept as a horse, and when she finished, she jumped off of her Papa's lap, and happily jumped and danced away, working on her other mini play.

This child is going to become a writer, Erik thought with a smile. The stories she created were, of course, a bit of simple and childish for an old man who spent his youth reading classics of literature, but Erik wasn't annoyed or bored by Belle's stories. He enjoyed them, truly. After the horrors he had to survive it was so calming to hear a little girl telling him simple and happy stories about everything a child finds good and funny. No more torture and death but cute pink bears or unicorns.

Correcting the children's homeworks again wasn't his favorite activity nowadays. It gave him trouble to read the small letters Noel used for example, and Flo wrote such stupidities in Mathematics it sometimes gave him headaches. Or was it only the fact he would need stronger glasses by now? With a sigh he tossed the paper away, and wanted to take a break of what he had to read through, considering the possibility of maybe giving less homework to the children. They sure would appreciate that, but this was going to lead to them being released from strict teaching. He did not really want that to happen, his children were hard enough to handle without too much freedom as well.

He reached to grab a bottle when he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. He recognized the soft delicate hand, and smiled instantly, turning around to face the person he adored the most on Earth.

\- You should rest a bit dear. – Christine smiled at him with compassion. – Give it to me, I proofread it for them.

\- You are kind to your poor husband. – Erik massaged his forehead with a thankful expression and handed Christine a few pages he was yet to check.

\- My husband is very kind to me and my all children as well. – She replied warmly, while her eyes ran through the lines of her youngest son's handwriting.

Erik absently admired his dear wife while taking a break, and he wondered how this beautiful woman was able to marry him. He could not thank his good luck enough, and was sure such a miracle can't happen twice in the world… and to this thought his eyes silently filled up with tears, thinking of poor Mahtab, and his misfortune in love. Poor child will have to suffer so much without anyone loving him back… there is no one more Christine Daaé on this Earth.

But just as he was wondering about this, the study's door flung wide open, and Mahtab happily jumped inside the room, cheerfully crying out:

\- Papa! Papa, you won't guess what has happened!

\- Mahtab dear, what is it? – Christine laughed out, noticing how excited Mahtab was, and she could not recall a time in the near past when the oldest child of the family was so happy about some happenings.

\- Mama…

Mahtab ran to Christine and hugged her tight, kissing her cheeks in his emotional outburst, which made Christine's heart melt. When he ran to kiss Erik as well, it just moved Christine's heart the more. Mahtab, since he was in his late teens, wasn't that much of a kisser than he was in his early childhood, and especially it was a long time ago he gave a kiss to Erik. They mostly shook hands, hugged or patted each other's shoulders and sent smiles to each other, but kissing wasn't "manly", and they really acted as a father-son relationship would work. Maybe ice was going to break and Mahtab realized she was a girl for a reason?

\- What makes you so happy, my precious? – Erik's voice reflected so much love Christine could have cried of emotional overflow. The scene was so touching.

\- I am loved… - He cried, and slipped into soprano range without realizing. – I am loved… for myself… Papa… Bonnie loves me as a male in a female's form, and… she likes girls… and… she.. she saw… saw it… my face… Papa…

Erik wasn't able to say anything, he started crying as well, unintentionally hugging Mahtab close to himself, tightly, and in some minutes, Mahtab was sitting on his Papa's lap, just like when he was yet a toddler, and Erik was cradling him, while they were sobbing, and hugging each other in happiness and relief.

Erik stroke that deformed, tear-soaked face with his bony thumb, and he no longer felt he had to apologize to Mahtab for that face, for the mistake he had created earlier, without any harmful intent. He no longer felt guilt, remorse or pity about the lack of nose and the malformed eyes and lips. If someone is able to love Mahtab as a human being, his existence is not pointless. Maybe is it because of the attitude, really? Mahtab inherited his Mother's personality, mostly, he was emotional, meek, sociable and warm hearted, just like Christine. Maybe this is why it is easier to love him? Erik was really a spiteful and ominous little creature, as he remembered back…

Not sure if Mahtab turned out to become this kind – hearted because he really inherited better personality traits, or it was because of the fact he had a loving and supporting family, a Mother who loved him no matter what – or a combination of the two, but Erik now started to come to a conclusion his face wasn't the only problem with him, and a face like theirs doesn't always mean someone will be unloved through a lifetime.

\- I am happy for you… both of you. – He said, after a long pause, kissing Mahtab's forehead.

\- Do you give your blessings then? – Mahtab smiled through his tears.

\- Absolutely. – He nodded. – Why should I not, my son?

After some happy crying and hugging in which Christine took part as well, Mahtab was told to invite Bonnie for lunch on Sunday so they will be able to get to know her more, and Mahtab was allowed to openly court her.

Florian, as Mahtab told him his success with love and the allowance of openly court Bonnie by his parents, made up his mind to state a huge decision at dinner.

Dinner was a special occasion at the family's life always, as it was mostly the time everyone was around, and everyone could tell what had happened to them during the day. It wasn't only about eating, it was a family event, and any important decisions were made or announced during dinner. Everyone was sitting at the table, and were eating soup, but Flo did not really touch his spoon, being lost in his thoughts and debating whether it was a good idea to tell it now or not, trying to search for the right moment to talk.

\- Are you ill, my dear? Why aren't you eating? – Christine called out worriedly, noticing Flo had a full bowl of soup when everyone else finished theirs.

\- No, Mama. – Flo shook his head.

\- Then eat. – Erik pointed at him.

\- I would like to tell you something. – Flo finally spat it out, standing up from his seat.

\- What is wrong? – Erik looked up suspiciously. – You are pale. Are you sure you are feeling all right?

\- Yes. – Flo nodded, and swallowed in his distress. – But it is important.

Every adult in the room was waiting motionlessly for the thing Flo wanted to say. Noel closed his eyes, waiting for the catastrophe to happen. He knew it wasn't going to be an easy match.

\- Papa, I am going to get married. – Flo said suddenly.

\- Oh, do not be silly. – Erik waved and shook his head with a chuckle. – I thought it was something serious.

\- It is serious. – Flo's voice was dark and determined but one could notice a hint of fear in it.

\- You can not. – Erik stated without giving much thought to the matter, while slicing some meat to Christine's plate. – You are yet a child. We shall talk about this issue in 5 years when you turn 21. And now the conversation is finished.

There was silence for some moments, Noel's hand was trembling and he sent a glance towards Flo to make him braver, but Flo just sat back and grabbed his spoon to eat some of the soup. He was going to need strength for the continuation of the debate.

\- And when can I get married, Papa? – Belle chirped as Erik kindly but strictly gave a knife and fork in her hands.

\- When your prince on a white horse arrives and saves you from a dragon. – Erik replied, half-jokingly, but Belle seemed to get content with the answer.

\- Is there absolutely no way for a man to get married at the age of 16? – Flo asked again.

\- No. – Erik shook his head firmly. – A BOY at the age of 16 should study and find a job for himself, and after he can marry anyone he wants at the age of 21, when he becomes a man.

\- You said you were a man at the age of 14. – Flo pointed out stubbornly.

\- I was supporting myself at that young age. Be thankful you do not have to as you have a family. – Erik snorted with a bit of annoyance.

\- I am thankful for my family who loves and supports me no matter what. – Flo said softly, and grabbed his glass full of milk and drank it at once. All of the members of the household who were under 21, received milk to drink, the adults, save for the Daroga of course, had a glass of wine. – May I have wine too, Papa?

\- No. – Erik's eyes narrowed, as he started to lose his patience, but he was trying his best not to get furious yet. – You are a child and you stay a child for years to come. No alcohol, no marriage for you for the coming five years. End of story and please stop talking nonsense.

Flo found it a wiser idea not to talk more until dinner was over. He was knocking a rhythm unintentionally on his plate by the fork, trying to ease his uneasy feelings. The thing has to be said and done. He can't pretend nothing had happened and can't turn his back at the situation now. He has to be a man now.

Erik picked up some plates on his arm to carry them to the kitchen when Flo softly addressed him, as he wanted to pass his son.

\- Papa, is there really not a situation someone has to be a man? To become a man early?

\- As I said, only if the circumstances are forcing you. – Erik looked at Flo with suspicion again.

\- What if you HAVE TO marry someone?

\- Depends. – Erik leaned closer while Christine returned to the dining room to help out her husband, and took the plates from him, and walked away, without Erik noticing he wasn't holding the plates any longer. – What are you talking about?

\- If you have to marry someone because there is something going on.

\- Need to or have to? – Erik leaned really close to Flo, only a few centimeters away from the boy's nose.

\- Have. To. – Flo repeated, giving emphasis to each of the words.

Erik was lucky that the plates weren't in his hands any longer, as if they were, they would have sure landed on the floor in that moment. There was silence for a time. None of them spoke a word, and Erik stormed out of the dining room in a few moments as he felt if he stayed for one more second, he would beat Flo to death.

\- Erik what… what on Earth? – Christine gasped as she saw the furious Erik running towards his study.

\- Ask that… that DON JUAN! – Erik screamed and slammed the door shut behind himself, and locked it. – Fucking Triumphant! – He yelled from inside but after there was silence for a time.

Christine held his fist in front of her mouth in horror, and ran into the dining room to ask about the horrendous happenings and possibilities.

\- Lily is the kindest girl I have met in my life. – Flo admitted as he sat beside Christine on the sofa in the master bedroom, while Christine was wiping her eyes with her handkerchief. – Mama, believe me, I am in love now. It is not just a passion.

\- I understand what you feel. – Christine sniffed. – But how could you, dear? How could you be so careless?

\- I don't know. – Flo admitted and lowered his head. – But now I have to marry her because she will be thought as a bad woman, while she isn't guilty. I am guilty.

\- Both of you are. – Christine looked at her son with a bit of strictness in her eyes. – But now, you are right, you have to face the consequences. But what shall we do now? If you were a big enough boy to act the way you did before, now be a big boy to decide what happens to you in the future.

\- I am planning to marry Lily.

\- And after? – The bedroom door opened and Erik appeared in the room, still wheezing from anger, but he tried his best to stay as calm as possible. – After what? What are you going to do for a living?

\- I am going to find a job.

\- Without schooling. – Erik pointed at Flo accusingly. – With your pitiful Mathematical knowledge you can't even go to a shop to sell potatoes as it will take hours to count the bill. You aren't used to physical work, so you won't be needed at a construction either. And don't think you can make a living out of merely composing!

\- What if I teach? – Flo asked with hope. – I could teach music…

\- Maybe. – Erik sighed. – And what is with the baby? Can you support an infant? Do you know what it needs? How old is the girl?

\- 15 and a half.

\- I couldn't be happier. – Erik barked. – Two babies want to play responsible adults. And want to raise a baby on their own. What a sweet scenario, such a cute idea.

\- Erik… - Christine softly called out, knowing stress won't do any good to Erik in his age and state of health. She was afraid he might have another seizure soon if he won't calm down a bit. – What if we helped them a bit until they can start the family on their own? Flo would still have the opportunity to study and…

\- And how do you imagine that, Christine? Do we ask the baby to please only be born after Florian receives a degree? Eh?

\- I thought… maybe we could adopt the baby until its parents are able to support it alone. – Christine whispered.

There was silence for some time, Flo started to hope maybe they were going through it without a bigger scandal, and thought it was easily solved and he was already planning the life they were going to lead with Lily and the baby, when Erik angrily slammed his skeletal fist against the end table at his side of the bed.

\- Adopt? Well, this is a great idea, my love! Just what I need, another baby to adopt! What am I, an orphanage? I am a man in my seventies, I am tired of having babies with me constantly, how much more children I shall adopt? Aren't those **TWO** I already adopted, enough? Eh?

Suddenly, he knew he had said something terrible, which he shouldn't have in his outrage, but it was already too late. With a huge gasp, facing the shock both of the issue of his son and he did not watch his tongue before yelling, his brain wasn't able to handle all of these emotions and Erik fell onto the ground unconsciously.

In front of the door, the younger children, Noel, Greg and Belle, who were listening, looked questioningly at each other.

\- Two? – Noel asked out loud, looking at his siblings.


	81. Chapter 81

The children still stood at the door, when it opened and Flo ran out of it desperately, under the effect of his father's abrupt fainting, and the situation in which he was in right at the moment.

\- Mohammed, help me, please! – Christine's scared voice filled the hallway as she glanced outside. – Erik is ill! Children… - She paused, looking at her children absently, then gestured at them dismissingly. – Please go to your room and play, I am busy. Go, go!

Flo, as the oldest of the children present at that time, grabbed Belle's hand mechanically, and turned around to lead her away from drama. Noel, sill under the shock of Erik's earlier statement, followed him, and so did Greg, who understood nothing of the issue going on, but felt he needed the support of his older siblings. He did not feel safe alone, as something wrong had happened. His earlier life was full of happenings which made him suffer, and now he was praying his Papa will feel better soon. They all ended up in Mahtab's room, and started chattering about the issue, to resolve the mystery and to ease their uncomfortable feelings.

\- What is adopted? – Belle, being the youngest of the group, had never heard this word, or at least she did not remember hearing it, and being the always oh so curious little girl, she had to ask.

\- It means that your parents aren't your real parents, but someone took you in because you had no parents. – Greg explained on his monotone – sounding voice, being so experienced in the matter. He already had 4 owners and a true family.

\- Yes, it has happened to Greg, it is true. – Noel nodded. – Mahtab found him.

\- I did. – Mahtab nodded, being a bit of confused what his younger siblings are doing in his room and why are they talking about adoption. – What is the matter with Greg?

\- Nothing. – Flo sighed. – I made everything worse, Papa is ill again.

\- Oh God in Heaven, no. – Mahtab slipped in soprano yet again, as always when she was upset. – Seizure?

\- I don't know, he fainted, but Mama sent me out of the room, I did not see if he was having seizure or not.

\- Do you know if Papa dies it is your fault? – Noel asked with accusation, but fell silent when Mathab pushed his side by his bony elbow.

\- No one is going to die here. – Mahtab stated. – And now everyone calm down. It is only a misfortunate evening.

\- But who ELSE is adopted, other than Greg?

\- No one. – Mahtab shook his head with an annoyed little snort. – And Greg is our brother too, being adopted or not.

\- Papa said so himself. – Noel went on, looking around. – He sure knows if someone isn't his OWN child here.

\- No one is adopted. – Mahtab again slipped into girly range by his worked up emotional state, no matter how he was trying to get back into tenor.

\- You are the only one who sure isn't. – Noel pointed out. – As you resemble Papa in a one hundred percent accuracy. But… well, I look like Papa a lot, as well, and even my voice is similar, so maybe is it Flo?

\- Me? Are you crazy? – Flo gasped. – Where is my musical talent from, if not from Papa?

\- Two children are adopted. Mahtab is not adopted, I am not either…

\- I am older than you! – Flo pointed at Noel.

\- It means nothing at all.

\- I was present at Flo's birth. – Mahtab pointed out. – I know he is Mama's and Papa's son.

\- You were yet small. – Noel said darkly. – You can't exactly know.

\- I do. – Mahtab sighed. – Go to bed, everyone.

\- Wait. – Noel slapped his forehead suddenly, looking at Flo. – Do you remember when it was only the three of us: Mahtab, you and me? And Mama fell ill.

\- Because she was expecting a baby. – Flo nodded.

\- Yes. – Noel pointed at Belle, who was already occupied by climbing up to Mahtab's desk to see what he was drawing, so she did not really pay attention any more. – And she was born.

\- Do you mean…? – Flo was staring at Belle for a few seconds.

\- We weren't home, do you remember? No one was here to be sure.

\- Yes, because Mama was very ill. We were at Tonton Raoul's, and Sophie… oh… I will have to write to Sophie that I am not going to marry her because I have a family. – Flo suddenly changed the subject, remembering back to his old love.

\- Oh, Flo, I think Sophie already knows that. – Mahtab shook his head. – You haven't seen each other for ages.

\- And now will Flo be disowned, just comes to mind? - Noel stated his realization out loud.

\- What is disowned? – Belle asked again, being both curious and scared, by hearing too much foreign words in a short time period, jumping off of the chair, walking closer to the others.

\- It means Papa will send him away because he was bad. – Noel explained.

\- What the Hell are you talking about? I am not even adopted!

\- No, but I read if boys make their parents angry or disappointed, they will be sent awa…

\- **What I hear?** – The Daroga's angry voice interrupted the conversation.

The children all fell silent, as it was a rare occasion if the Persian Tonton rose his voice. It was mostly Erik who disciplined them if they misbehaved, not the Daroga. There is a huge problem going on if he decided to interfere.

\- Noel, what things are you saying? Aren't you ashamed? Your poor old father isn't feeling well at this very moment, he needs calm and peace around him, and what are you doing?

\- I was merely… thinking.

\- Thinking? Rather you incite another quarrel! Isn't one drama enough for tonight?

\- Papa said…

\- Papa is out of his mind with anger right now, so he might not make sense in every way. – Mohammed sighed. – Noel, stop making up theories and frightening your siblings! They need nothing of that sort right now. Go to your room and occupy yourself with more useful things to do, for example you could pray for your father. And think what you've done and said. Ask for God's forgiveness for the sinful thoughts in your head.

Noel, contrary to his usual nature, did not dare to talk back this time, as he knew if the Daroga is mentioning God instead of Allah, indicated he was very angry, and wanted Noel to think real hard what he had done. He obediently walked out of Mahtab's room, whispering a faint "Sorry" at the doorway. As Noel was out of the room, the Persian walked inside with a deep sigh, looking at the children with a glance full of both compassion and tiredness. He took Belle's hand and guided her out of the room to hers, telling her it was already late and she had to go to bed.

\- But is Papa very ill? – She asked, worrying, looking at her parents' bedroom door.

\- He is tired. – The Daroga stroke her red locks and patted her shoulder. – He needs to sleep.

\- Can he sleep without bedtime story? – She inquired anxiously.

\- He can't read you a bedtime story, dear, he will tomorrow.

\- No, I mean he needs me to read him a story. – Belle looked up, pointing at the door. – Won't he have nightmares?

\- Oh no, dear, he is already sleeping. He is very tired. It had happened to you as well that you could not listen to a story, as Papa carried you to bed you were already asleep.

\- Yes, because I was too exhausted. I played with horsies.

\- I know. – The Persian smiled at her, gently rubbing her back. – Nothing is wrong dear, go to sleep.

Belle obeyed, hugging her favorite toy for bed, and when she was already in bed, and the Daroga made sure she was feeling safe and comfortable, only then he walked back to Mahtab's room. In there, sat a desperate and guilty Flo, with Mahtab trying to support and make him feel better. Greg already went to bed as well, he did not wish to bother anyone.

\- It is all my fault. – Flo whispered brokenly. – I should have been more careful. Or shouldn't have told.

\- You did the right thing. – Mahtab patted Flo's back. – It is not fair with Lily if you don't speak, just for the sake of peace. You need to support her. Be strong, she needs you.

\- But now what shall happen?

\- It goes as it goes. – Mahtab sighed. – I don't know.

\- Is it painful to be pregnant? – Flo asked innocently.

\- How should I know? – Mahtab shrugged. – And I will never find it out.

\- At least you won't make Papa angry as I did. Maybe he does not love me anymore because I am not a good boy…

\- He loves you still. – Mahtab said knowingly. – He is angry for you, not with you.

\- What do you mean? – Flo dried his eyes with his sleeve.

\- I mean he is angry because he did not imagine your future like this. He wanted to give you a proper education and a job, and he is afraid you won't live well with your family because of your decisions.

\- I see. But now what can I do…? – Flo looked around, seeking for help.

\- At first, - The Daroga joined in the conversation again as he stepped inside the room -, you should calm down and sleep too. Your father still loves you and only wants the best for you. He will get used to the scenario within time. Give him time. And don't blame yourself. Erik had made strange or stupid decisions in his earlier life as well, he can't really judge you.

\- How is Papa? – Mahtab asked with worry.

\- Sleeping. Not well, but not terribly ill. He just could not take stress well. Boys, you know he is not young anymore and his life was full of traumas. His heart is weakened throughout the years. If I were you, I'd be careful how abruptly I tell life changing news for the next time.

\- Did he have a seizure? – Mahtab went on.

\- No. Not this time. He fainted. He complained about chest pain, but nothing more. It must be only he was nervous. But maybe it won't do any harm if I call a doctor for him. Calm down and sleep. Everyone. Sleep now.

The Persian went out of the room, to check on Erik yet again.

\- Don't worry Flo. – Mahtab smiled. – You see, Papa isn't going to die, and everything shall work out fine. If you want to, you may sleep here in my room tonight.

\- Do you not mind it? – Flo hugged his older brother with love and a thankful expression.

\- But of course, I don't mind sleeping with someone I love. I love you my little brother.

\- Whatever happens?

\- Whatever happens. We love you. All of us.

As the Daroga entered the master bedroom, he saw Christine sitting by the side of the bed, holding Erik's skeletal hand. The poor old man was sleeping, seemingly peacefully, so Mohammed only nodded at the sight.

\- If you need anything, call for me. – He whispered to Christine than he left for the night.

Christine, after some time, calmed down enough to finally go to sleep as well by her husband's side. She did not want to think of the situation they were in yet, and did not wish to consider the possibility of becoming a grandmother yet. She was a strong woman, but she always needed some time to face new problems in her life, and needed a lot of time to overcome tragedies and unexpected problems. She did not yet feel strong enough to think what shall happen next – she only wanted to feel Erik's presence. Carefully, not to wake him up, she snuggled up to his bony side and put her head on his chest.

She did not know how much time she spent sleeping with her husband when she felt her head being gently put on her pillow. The hand touching her was cold and a bit sweaty. She opened her eyes and saw a lanky figure walking away from the bed and putting on his robe in the dark. She sat up in bed and lit the lamp, noticing Erik walking towards the door.

\- Erik… are you not sleeping? – She whispered.

\- No. – He grunted.

\- Why not? – She worried, taking a quick glance at Erik's pocket watch laying on top of the end table next to the bed. It was half past two.

\- I can't. – Another morose reply came, while Erik put on his slippers. – My system got used to sedatives over the years. They don't work too much.

\- Why don't you come back here and try to close your eyes for a bit? Maybe you fall asleep again.

\- No. – Erik shook his head. – I need some… meh.

\- Some what? – Christine got suspicious.

\- Break.

\- No, you were going to say something. – She was now up and walking towards Erik, who already grabbed the doorknob. – Erik do not drink. It won't solve anything. Please.

\- Alcohol doesn't help any more. – Erik sighed brokenly. – I can still THINK if I drink, though I used to drink to forget.

\- Then what do you need? What were you going to get?

\- Some… cough medicine. – Erik forced some cough out of himself to prove how much he needed it. – I… can't sleep if… I am coughing this way.

\- Oh Erik… no! Do not start it over please. No.

\- Christine what do you… expect of me… in my age… in my situation? I am… I… failed. Failed as a father… I could not… raise my son as a normal person, I wasn't… able to… save him from this… Where did I ruin it…?

\- Erik, it is not your fault. You did not ruin anything.

\- A father… is responsible for his children's acts. I should have paid more attention to him.

\- Erik, they are not young children any more you can't always hold their hands. Erik…

\- This is why… I never wanted children… in the first place… I knew I will be a terrible father to them.

\- A terrible father? The man who tells them good night stories, supports them, teaches them…

\- What is the use of it when they turn out to be… like this…? Because their father… could not teach them what is right and wrong?

\- Contrary to your childhood and early life you are the best father you can be. – Christine stated calmly.

\- I need cough medicine. – He turned away again in embarrassment and a slight disgust to open the door, but Christine put her hand on his shoulder.

\- Erik, please don't make matters worse. You just suffered through an illness. Please. Don't make it worse by taking… drugs again. You promised me you won't touch those horrid things any more. After our wedding… Erik… you promised.

\- I did, Christine, I did, but when I did, I did not know I will be such a failure in every possible way.

\- Erik, I still think you are the best husband ever. You gave me beautiful and clever children and I love all of them. Do you hear me? All of them. Please. Don't take any cough medicine.

\- Christine… you know I can handle this. I was able to quit it once. I am able to quit it again if I want to.

\- But it was 20 years ago, Erik, and it took you enough suffering. I know you were in pain many times, don't deny it. I don't want you to start it over.

\- I have not much choice to remain sane.

\- But it is your cough medicine which makes you insane, exactly. Remember back your jealousy fits!

\- Which were because of the withdrawal, not the use.

\- Oh Erik… no… please… If you are feeling ill, why don't you let your wife take care of you? Why do you need stupid medicines?

\- Oh… would she? – Erik lifted his head up, with a hopeful expression.

\- She will, always. – Christine placed a warm kiss on that cold and pale forehead and gently, but firmly took Erik's hand to guide him back to bed.

\- Wait a moment, I have to undress. – Erik stuttered hesitantly.

\- Oh, at least you won't feel too cold, dear. – Christine smiled and playfully pulled Erik back to bed.

Obediently Erik lay back down and allowed Christine to stroke his hair until his troubled mind was again settled, and in an hour, he was already sleeping again. With a smile, Christine kissed her sleeping husband, and put her head back on his chest. Love always fights obstacles, and sure, there are always some kind of problems in a marriage and with children. But as long as a family loves each other, everything can be solved. She felt pride she was able to make Erik change his mind as well – it was the first huge tragedy Erik felt the need of that cough medicine again during their marriage, and she was proud she was able to talk to him about it, and he accepted her reasoning. What is this, if not a proof they can solve everything?


	82. Chapter 82

In the morning, Flo was in a much better mood, spending the night with Mahtab, who was a supportive older brother to him and even let him sleep in his bed, and to hug him to chase away nightmares and uncomfortable feelings he had about the situation. Strangely none of the other children considered Mahtab as a girl, and Flo did not think he was sleeping with a grown up woman, but his older brother who offered him his emotional support in this complicated scenario and a night full of chaos.

This could not have said about the adults in the house though. Christine, though she was trying to disguise her real feelings about the happenings, was silently weeping in the dawn, and Erik hated to see her tears. Well, that brat shall receive what he deserves for making his poor mother cry. Erik himself had a nasty stress indicated headache and was restlessly walking around the bed after he could not sleep any more, and when morning came he dressed up for the day without a word. He had to take care of the family, no matter what had happened, he still had younger children, and in front of them he had to act as naturally as possible. He did not know how that should happen, but with a deep sigh, he went to wake up Belle and Noel, and prepare breakfast.

Though he had to disappoint in a positive way. By the time he appeared in the salon, all of the other family members were sitting on the sofa, waiting, properly dressed and well- groomed. Other times this would take one hour longer, and not so peacefully. Not even Noel was up to anything illegal.

\- Mahtab braided my hair. – Belle chirped. – He does not pull it like you do sometimes. – She pointed at Erik.

\- Sorry. – He sighed. – He did a nice job, your hair looks adorable. And who picked out your outfit? – He added smiling.

\- Me. – She grinned. – But Mahtab helped.

\- Good children. And you, Noel?

\- I woke up by myself and fed the cat.

\- Did you? – Erik looked at him with surprise. – How come?

It was a real self-sacrificing act to feed M. LeChat, as he was so very old, he was only eating if someone fed him from the hand. And it took ages. Usually Christine did this task nowadays as the poor old Monsieur took a good hour to eat his breakfast. Noel, the impatient boy was willingly kneeling and feeding the cat from his hand? Unbelievable.

\- I thought you will be tired after your illness. – He admitted.

Erik was wondering with a faint smile what has gotten into his youngest. Noel was never so helpful, and never before did consider his father's health. It was always Mahtab and Flo worrying about his health, Noel did not even seem to care.

\- It is kind of you, but I am not ill. – Erik smiled. – I am fine.

\- I am happy to hear that, but please rest more. Mahtab is preparing breakfast for us. – Noel replied in a manner of a true gentleman.

\- I don't recognize you, son. Are you ill? – Erik could not help a bit of sarcasm coming to the surface, seeing the unusual behavior of Noel.

\- No, thank you, I am feeling well. – Noel replied. – And I am sorry for causing you a lot of trouble earlier. I am trying to be a good boy from now.

\- You are good. – Erik nodded. – On your own way. But thank you for considering the possibility of making less trouble.

Noel, still unusually of himself, walked to Erik and hugged him. Noel was never for hugs and kisses, he was always a distant little scientist, and sometimes Erik thought he will never be able to show his emotions to anyone. In a way, Noel had more trouble expressing emotions than him. Looking down on his son's face, he noticed some tears in those clear blue eyes. Tears… Noel never cried, after his infancy. He was a needy crybaby after his birth, but in his childhood he did not shed a tear.

\- Please don't die yet Papa. – He whispered, audibly for only Erik and himself. – I love you. I will be good.

Seemingly Noel got scared about his stress indicated illness the night before and now he thought any bad thing they might do, will cause another one, or his death. Erik was ashamed to admit he liked that thought and did not think he ever wanted to inform Noel about the truth if it meant he will make much less trouble.

\- Do not worry. – He stroke Noel's chin with his thumb, which made the boy smile. – I am not going anywhere.

Breakfast was surprisingly peaceful, Erik thanked God for it, not even Christine was crying anymore, and everyone was as obedient as it was written in the book. Flo seemed to be much relaxed as well, which fact annoyed Erik slightly. Does he think he got away with this act? He did not want to confront him though, he enjoyed the silence and good atmosphere in the family. The rest of the day passed in peace, as Erik decided he will talk to Florian when the other children have to go to bed, and Mahtab will be discretely sent out of the room while that. It will be only his and Florian's issue. A man to man conversation.

Enough of the drama in front of the whole family.

Though, something hit his ear when the children were doing their homework and he was just relaxing in front of the fireplace in his favorite armchair. The conversation he overheard was brief and almost inaudible, he only heard it because of his flawless hearing. Noel whispered at first:

\- Flo… Flo… I want to ask something.

\- What? – The older boy did not dare to speak louder.

\- What does it feel like to be with a girl?

Silence. Erik lifted his head up like a hunter dog, not wanting to miss a word.

\- Good. – Flo replied hesitantly after some more silence.

\- How good? – Noel went on.

\- Very… very good feeling…

No more words were spoken, but Erik already heard enough. Seems like he did not only have to talk to one of his sons, but two of them. He did not know which one is the more urgent case: the son who already caused trouble, or the son who only started to get interested in this dangerous activity? He would need to talk to him to prevent another catastrophe.

He did not have to wait too much or search for a time when he could be just the two of them with Noel though, as after they finished homework, Noel carried all of their solved papers to Erik by himself, and handed them to him.

\- Here is our homework, Papa. May I help you with anything?

\- It is a kind move of you that I don't have to collect them myself. – He smiled. – I don't need help, thank you, but I would like to have a conversation with you, if you had the kindness to come here, after all.

\- What is wrong, Papa? – Noel sat down obediently to the chair in front of his father, and waited for the talk.

\- You are getting older too. – Erik smiled. – It wasn't so long time ago when you were just a baby, and look, you are nearly a grown – up man.

Noel looked a bit older than Flo, even though he was younger by two years, Noel looked to be at least 17 years old, while he was only 14. He was tall and mature looking.

\- Yes, but I don't mind it. – Noel shrugged, not knowing what that was about.

\- Me neither. Only the things you all are doing when you grow up too fast. – He sighed with a hint of disappointment.

\- Do you mean Florian's issue? –Noel scratched his head.

\- Partly. – Erik nodded. – Tell me, my son, honestly… are you really only interested in science?

\- Did you hear what I told Flo? – Noel's eyes narrowed a bit, but he wasn't angry.

\- Yes. – Erik admitted. – It has no use to deny it.

\- Then I tell you honestly I am interested in other issues as well, but you don't have to worry about me, as I won't meet any girls wanting to do it with me.

\- You think so. – Erik shook his head. – If you are determined to do something, you will, eventually. I don't want to make the same mistake twice, and you to make your brother's mistake. If you need to do it, there is a way to… get to know it legally you know? It is better to do it safely than to have another early grandchild your poor old father has to support.

\- I agree, but how can you make me sleep with someone legally and safely?

\- If you are interested in the details, let me know and we are going to make it happen. There are women out there for this very purpose and they ask nothing.

\- Sounds good. – Noel grinned.

\- But not a word to Mama or anyone else. – Erik pointed at his son seriously. – This is a man to man conversation and only you and I should know of it. Some people find this act, you know… indecent.

\- And will you come with me too?

\- I accompany you so you are safe. I am a married man, you know. Only men without a wife should ever do it.

\- I understand. – Noel nodded. – And I would like you to take me. I wish to try it out so I know what it is like.

\- Good. – Erik nodded. – I am going to take you to them in some days. Now please tell Florian to come here. We need to talk.

Noel stood up and walked to fetch his brother, who was playing the violin to calm his troubled soul a bit. He was afraid of the scenario which was about to come. When Noel stepped in his room, he instantly knew why he was sent… He put his violin down in embarrassment, and plucked on the G string absently.

\- Come on, Flo, you need to talk to him someday. You can't avoid this conversation forever.

\- How can you be so mature sometimes?

\- It is easier to examine the situation from the outside, me not being involved in it. – Noel shrugged. – If you go and speak to Papa right away, I will search for tomorrow's Math homework for you and solve them while you are talking and you will only have to copy it later. I know Papa writes them in a few days in advance.

\- I… well, you are not obedient, but you are a good boy. – Flo sighed. – Thank you.

\- I am only trying to support all of you like Papa and Mahtab does. – Noel replied. – Someone has to take care of the weaker ones.

Flo did not like it too much that his younger brother thought him weaker than he was, but the truth was Flo was indeed weaker than Noel- both emotionally and physically. He felt weak in the knees while walking, even at that moment. When he arrived to his father, he was scared to see he had his walking stick with him. Being afraid of a beating, he did not dare to walk closer. Erik noticed this, and grumpily growled at him.

\- You think I am going to beat you, don't you?

\- Yes. – Flo nodded.

\- Would you deserve it, in your opinion? – He pointed at Flo with the stick.

\- Yes. – Flo nodded with a faint whisper.

\- And tell me, when was the last time I hit ANY of you, eh? Am I really that much a monster of a father you have to be so afraid of me, eh?

\- No. – Flo closed his eyes. – But you are angry with me and…

\- And my leg hurts, which is why I have the walking stick, if that is what bothers you. It did not come to your mind, did it?

\- No.

\- So you did not consider that possibility of your poor olf father being in pain, only that he wants to beat you up. You little coward. – He dragged himself to his chair and sat down, angrily kicking the stick away from him. – Now would you come closer finally? And do you think I would not be able to hit you by hand? Eh? But I won't. At first: because your unwanted child will still be born even if I hit you. It has no use. Secondly: My arms hurt too much, hitting you would cause both of us a great amount of pain. Well, come here, we have to talk.

\- Yes Papa.

\- Come here and sit down in front of me and look into my eyes. If you were brave enough to impregnate a ballet rat younger than you, now be brave enough to talk to your father about the shame you have caused. Be a man.

Flo brokenly sat down to the chair where Noel used to sit a little earlier, and looked at Erik, trying to be as brave as possible.

\- Papa, look. I did not know… well I did not think it was possible to have a baby just once. I swear to God I only went to bed with Lily just that one time.

\- Irrelevant. – Erik snorted and pointed at Flo with his skeletal finger. – Don't try to explain this to me, the problem is already here. Tell me a possible solution.

\- I am going to teach music and have a degree in music… until that I am afraid, you would have to…

\- To support you and your bastard, did you plan to say this?

\- Don't call the child that. – Flo sighed. – It is innocent.

\- Technically speaking I did not insult the child, only said the facts. And your plan to solve this issue, is laughable. And what shall happen to your little ballet rat while that? I help you, you are not allowed to marry her at all and I am not going to take her in and support her either.

\- She has an aunt… she is living with her as her parents died...

\- In her 80s that aunt is, I know. She can die anytime, and your ballet rat is on the streets in a blink of an eye.

\- I know.

\- And can you figure out something better?

\- No. Can you? – Flo swallowed.

\- Yes. – Erik nodded gracefully. – You, my dearest little son, are going to take a degree in the Parisian Conservatory of Music. It is going to take another five years, and by that time you are reaching adulthood and do whatever you want. You marry anyone you want to.

\- But… that means I will be sent to Paris…? All alone?

\- Of course not. Everyone who isn't 21 years old yet, comes back with me to Paris. I have enough of London anyway, your contract had expired, and I am not going to wait until you impregnate half of London. It is a shame, we have to avoid scandal by going back to Paris, and you shall not talk about this little incident to anyone. And in Paris, you are going to be under my full control and not going anywhere alone until you finish school and turn an adult. I had trusted you, and you ruined it.

\- But… what happens to Lily and the child?

\- Until you turn legally adult I send her a monthly alimony which will allow her to take good care of that child. After you grow up you may do whatever you want, but the alimony shall be paid by you once you have a regular income. I am not going to raise your child for you until it turns 21 as well. I might not be around even if I wanted to do so, but I don't want to. You may pray that I stay alive in the next five years so you are able to finish scholarship.

\- But…

\- No but. I have decided. You are yet a child, and as your father, and lawful guardian, I decide for you. End of the debate.

\- When are we leaving? – Flo stuttered.

\- The soonest possible. – Erik barked. – I am going to inform your poor mother about my decision tonight and we are going to start to prepare to go home right after. Once we finished packing everything, we are leaving.

\- I… I have to tell this to Lily. May I go see her tonight?

\- No. And if you try to sneak out I will lock you up in your room and not letting you out even to the bathroom, just to inform you. I don't trust you. You two might make up a plan to secretly bring the ballet rat with us, or I have no idea what your little tricky mind might work out. She is going to receive a letter by me, which will explain everything.

\- But… what people will say… I mean about Lily? They will call her a … whore.

\- It isn't my problem, I did not sleep with her. As your father I have to protect your name. People will say she had a nobleman "partner", just as usual. Things like these happen. All the time. Remember, I did not create this awful situation, it was YOU who did it. I am just trying to do my best to fix the things you ruined. Think about this and shame on you.

Erik knew this wasn't the best solution he could come up with, but to be honest, he only worried about Mahtab. He found his soul mate and lover to be just now in London. He will be heartbroken if they will have to part… but if he allows Bonnie to go with them, Flo might and will righteously demand the ballet rat being taken with them as well. Yet he did not want to do that. He did not even know that little whore and did not WANT to meet it. Mahtab… well he is going to meet someone else. If he was able to meet someone like this in London, he can meet someone else anywhere else as well. Not Bonnie is the only one with a taste and good heart like that!

He has to be strong and strict like a cliff. No one and nothing was going to change his mind.

The children hardly ever speak French nowadays… They will be better at home finally. He missed his house built by himself, it was left alone for years, only taken care of by the de Chagny's, and no matter how comfortable this apartment was in London, he did not feel it was his home. He always considered it as a temporary lodging until Flo has work in London. Well, he doesn't have any more.

And he did not want to die in London.


	83. Chapter 83

The following day was a bit of sad, no one really liked to admit they did not want to go back to Paris. Save for Belle, who was excited to see a "new place" as she did not remember Paris any more - she was yet a baby when they moved to London, and Greg, who could not be happier to travel "abroad" as he always wanted to see more of the world. He kept asking the older siblings about France, and he was excited to no end about it.

\- Will I learn to speak French too? - He asked happily, turning to Noel.

\- Yes, but it is tricky compared to English. - Noel nodded. - You will need to practice a lot, especially grammar.

Noel sighed, as homework came to his mind. They received a lot of French homework, as Erik was certain about they "nearly forgot how to speak their native tongue already" as they were "constantly speaking English for years". Noel did not like to admit, but his grammar and spelling wasn't the best in French even back at home, and now he could have found some better way to spend time than writing French sentences which will be full of errors and typos.

Mahtab was sorry they had to leave just when he found someone who could understand him finally, and felt he will never ever find anyone like this again, such a girl as Bonnie. Yes, they may be penfriends, but it will be extremely hard compared to meeting in person regularly. Maybe they will never meet again. He knew how much his emotions faded away towards Sophie as well, and he hated himself for that. She wasn't the dear sister- like friend too him any more, only a good friend he wrote a letter to sometimes - oh, not as often as he should have, not at all. It was painful to face the cruel reality it will happen to Bonnie as well, in some days. They are going to write to each other, at first, a lot, every day… and days run, years pass, and…

Forget me not, Bonnie. God bless you.

Florian… well, he was heartbroken as well to lose Lily for long- long years while he shall attend school in Paris. He did not like the idea at all, he still felt like a young child, controlled by Papa's will as a puppet, and not being able to support his family. He wanted to show everyone he was responsible enough to start his family, and make a living of composing, teaching and giving concerts. He loved Lily and could not imagine to be separated from her, especially when the girl would need him the most. How on Earth will Lily deliver a baby all alone, without any help? Financial support means so little. She will be isolated, unable to work, always dependant on Papa's allowance, and she can't even marry anyone with a child any more… People will despise her and call her a little whore. What a sad life of an outcast… why Papa can't understand this and give so harsh replies like "You have cooked this for yourselves, now eat it." Flo was desperate and knew this solution wasn't helping anyone. He was angry, to be honest, at Papa mostly, as he made this decision.

Noel was neutral about moving back to Paris. He did not mind it, unlike his older brothers he had no one to miss from London. The boys he used to play and fight with were all dumb and they could not understand any more serious issues than playing ball games, and exchange taws, or running with a wheel on the streets all day long. He liked to play these games, but not all the time, and when he was trying to talk about science or at least music to the other kids, they weren't paying attention, the fools. He could only converse with his siblings, anyway, so it was all the same to him where was he with his siblings: in London or in Paris. Only one thing bothered him about the journey: Papa and his state of health in general. He did not know whether travelling back to Paris from London was going to do Papa any good health- wise. He was seriously ill many times in their childhood and he was an old man. And Noel found himself selfish enough to want his father beside him for some more years to come, no matter how he did not like to admit it.

\- What did you say? - Erik turned to Greg with a surprised expression all over his face at the dinner table. - Repeat.

\- Tu es laid. - Greg replied again with his monotonous sounding, a bit of gruff voice. Erik closed his eyes and sighed.

\- What do you think it means, son? - Christine was terrified Greg exactly knows it, and he called Erik "ugly" in French for a reason.

\- I asked for some more milk, did I not?

\- No, you did not. - Erik shook his head and sent a strict look towards his older sons. - I give three seconds to the sinner to stand up and apologize. One…

\- It was me, sorry. - Noel jumped up.

\- I knew, but I wanted to give you an opportunity to admit it yourself. - Erik barked and pointed at his son with his fork he was still holding. - You finished your dinner, leave the room.

\- It wasn't Noel. - Greg said suddenly. - I don't know why he says so, but it wasn't him this time.

Noel did not know if he should rather speak or walk away to accept punishment in silence, but Papa was already starting to act like the policeman Tonton Mohammed again, which did not mean anything good.

\- He must have misunderstood "lait" for "laid" Papa, they sound similar. - Mahtab was trying to save the situation, desperately wanting to avoid more drama going on in the family.

\- And he called me milk. - Erik retorted in a bad mood. - But anyway, I am not even interested any more. - He stood up. - Finish your dinner and do what you want to, I am going to retreat. Good night.

Erik walked away from the table and out of the room, rather slowly and laboriously, just as mostly in those days. He had physical pain, of course, but right at that moment he felt worse emotionally. Whichever child of his taught Greg to call him ugly, wanted to send him a message which he understood clearly, and agreed with it wholeheartedly. He was ugly, in the outside and in the inside, both. Still. No matter how many children he had fathered, how many years he was married, and how he tried to raise his children the best way possible, and he made efforts enormously huge not to make the mistakes his Mother made, he failed. He made other mistakes than his Mother and they weren't any better. He thought it was easy to raise children, if they are loved for themselves, they turn out to be good. This was the theory he had in his mind for all his life, that Erik himself would have turned out to be a good boy if someone loved him in his childhood, and if he loves his children, they can't make bad decisions or do bad things. He was a failure to all of the fields he wanted to be good at.

He wasn't a good husband. He knew Christine would have deserved someone better than him. He was, at the beginning of their marriage, simply a lunatic with a moderately severe addiction to drugs and alcohol, and he burst out in fits of anger and jealousy far too many times to be tolerable. After he finally calmed down, and some years passed in pleasant calmness he treasured the most in life, Christine got pregnant with Mahtab. He spent nearly a year worrying about the possibility of passing the deformity and secretly hoping Christine was going to miscarry. After Mahtab was born he spent months of ignoring the child, and despising its looks just as much as Mother did his. After he tried to make up for this by spoiling Mahtab to no end, and sometimes either being too indulgent or too strict towards all of his children in general. They did not get a role model and weren't normally taught about what is good or bad maybe? They did not agree about raising children with Christine many times in the past, and it caused many misunderstandings in which he maybe tended to overreact. He was touchy and said many things he did not mean and things he should have never said to his wife. No, he wasn't a good husband and nor he was a good father and a good friend. All of his sins and wrong decisions came to his mind as he was sitting in front of the desk in the study, but he couldn't see anything of the world surrounding him.

He was thinking for a long time, contemplating his life and trying to think of a solution how to solve the problems he was causing constantly.

\- Let me hear the story, who was it and why? - Tonton made all of the children stand in a line in front of Christine and him, to investigate the issue after Erik left.

\- You all know there are words we are not using in our house. - Christine now really seemed to be angry. - In any language. - She added. - So I want to know who was the idea from?

\- It was me who taught Greg to tell Papa this. - Flo answered finally, looking at his feet in sadness and guilt.

\- I knew it wasn't Noel. - Mohammed nodded gracefully. - It isn't his way to act in the last few months, he is turning more polite.

\- But if it wasn't you, Noel, why did you want to be punished for something you did not do? - Christine walked to Noel and put her hand on his shoulder.

\- Papa is angry with Flo because of the baby issue and I did not want him to get another punishment. Flo is angry because we have to go back to Paris, I understand him in a way. And anyway… I got used to punishments, I often misbehave. One more or less is nothing to me. - Noel replied.

\- I just acted out of instinct. - Flo admitted. - I did not know a better way how to tell Papa I am angry, but after Greg said what he said I simply did not dare to look into Papa's eyes and tell him it was me.

\- And this is how a responsible man acts? Sending childish remarks about someone who loves you with all his heart and only wants the best for you? He only wanted to save you from the scandal YOU had caused. You… you know how he feels about that word. - Christine sighed deeply and quickly turned around to leave the room.

Mahtab was the first one to regain his common sense after the scene and he instantly caught Belle's hand and kissed her.

\- Come dear, it is bedtime. We take a bath and go to sleep. - He cooed calmingly.

\- I don't understand these games we are playing at night, are these mini plays? - Belle asked with confusion while heading towards the bathroom.

\- Yes they are. - Mahtab nodded.

\- All right but next time play something happier, I am scared. - She removed the ribbon from her hair.

\- We will play happier things, don't worry. - Mahtab hurriedly led Belle to the bathroom and helped her to undress for a bath.

Christine was crying in the master bedroom after she found Erik's door closed and the man did not respond to any of her knocking and callings. She wished to comfort her poor husband after the scene which took place, as it was one of the worst things which could have happened in this family and Christine exactly know how Erik feels about the u- word and what it symbolizes for him. For some reason she suspected something terrible to happen shortly and she needed to cry.

Florian appeared next to her after some time and penitently sat down next to her on the sofa.

\- Mama I am sorry. - He whispered.

\- I hope you are. - Christine sounded broken, and she did not lift her head from her hands where she buried it, fighting her tears.

\- I don't mean what I… so I don't find Papa ugly in any way.

\- I hope you don't. - Christine finally looked at her son, her beautiful blue eyes full of tears. - Flo if you knew how hard your father is working to be a good father to you all, you would never call him by that word ever again, and you would never have. There was a time I called him that as well, but he developed so much since that… it is nearly inhuman how hard he is trying. He is not perfect Flo, I know. But neither you are, right? - She stood up from the sofa and walked to the window to look out. - Don't ask for my forgiveness. Ask for his.

Christine hoped Erik will at least let Florian in and listen to him so she can meet and talk to her husband after the boy apologizes. Worriedly she sat down on the side of the bed and was listening to any of the noises coming from the study. The only noise she could hear after some minutes, was Flo's gasp and desperate cry, then his footsteps getting closer and closer.

\- Mama! Mama come here… - Flo sounded to be scared, and Christine was now sure something terrible happened…

Her heart was pounding in her throat and her hands were trembling when she stepped in to the now open door of Erik's study. Erik was gone. He was nowhere at the desk or in none of the chairs, and neither he was fallen under or behind the desk. Christine started to wonder if there was something wrong at all, as Erik wasn't laying there dead or injured or unconsciously.

\- It is because of me, Mama? - Flo asked softly, while he was nervously cracking his fingers.

\- He is… he is gone, maybe he just went to take a walk. - Christine stared at the boy absently, but Flo pointed at a piece of paper at the desk.

\- No… that… have you read that?

Christine lifted up the paper and started to read it nervously.

 _ _Dearest wife and family,__

 _ _I know I have made a mistake last night as well, but I am trying my best to fix it. I am sorry for the inconveniences I have caused to all of you and hope this action of mine is going to make all your lives the better and you can forgive me for the things I have said and done against you all.__

 _ _Love with all my heart,__

 _E._ _ _A. Spöke__

Christine felt like she had just suffered a heart attack and frantically she pulled out a drawer from the desk and with trembling hand she reached behind it.

\- It is not here… - She whispered faintly. - He took it with him…

She could not reply to Flo's nervous questioning, she barely heard her son when everything went black.

\- I don't know why are you walking all alone I the rain at night, but if you must, at least wear proper clothing.

What…? What was that voice? Was she dreaming?

Christine could not open her eyes right away, but she could hear Erik was talking to someone, while just opening the door. Erik…?

\- Oh Christine, my little singing bird, you here, Wake up sweetie, you have a proper bed, don't sleep here in the study, you dear girl, you will make your back hurt.

It was Erik's voice, for sure and she could feel his hand on her shoulder as he was helping her up from the couch. His gloves were wet, and he was cool, just as if he just have returned home.

\- E… Erik…! - Christine hugged him close to herself tight, not being able to decide if she was dreaming now or she had a nightmare before.

\- What is wrong? - Erik asked with worry. - Compose yourself a bit dear, we have a guest.

\- Guest…? - Christine looked at the doorway where she saw a soaked girl, with dark hair and a scared pale face.

\- Come in and sit at the fireplace, girl. - Erik ordered strictly. - The girl was trying to remove her shoes in embarrassment at the door, and whispered a faint "Good evening Ma'am." while passing Christine.

\- I thought you… you… you committed something terrible… you left a good- bye note and… took the pistol….

\- Ssssh! - Erik silenced his confused and worrying wife and took her hand to lead her out hurrying from the study and whispered. - Not in front of the… ballet rat. Please… Ummm. - He turned back to face the girl from the doorway and he once again talked louder. - Stay there for a few minutes I have to have a few words with my wife.

\- M'sieur, I… this is urgent…

\- I heard it before as well, stay there, I said.

Erik shut the door and gently pushed Christine to the master bedroom.

\- At first: It wasn't a good bye note, I was simply informing you all about I changed my mind in some aspects. I don't know why you over complicate things always. - Erik tiredly got rid of his soaked cloak and held his hands near the fire. He could barely feel his fingers.

\- But… if you did not go to commit… you know what… why did you take the pistol?

\- It is not a nice thing to search among your husband's belongings while he is away, Christine. - Erik scolded. - And to answer your inquiry, I tell you I ALWAYS have a weapon with me. Either that or the string. Only self- defense, you see. If I leave the house for a few hours with a pistol it means nothing of that sort I wish to end my life.

\- Oh you scared me. I thought the scene which took place…

\- So you think just because my son calls me ugly out of revenge, I am going to the Thames and shoot myself in it?

\- I had such visions.

\- Oh Christine, don't be silly.

\- But then what was it you changed your mind about…? Lily…? Did you… take her here?

\- No, she ran into me a few corners nearby, I don't know what her problem is, she stuttered about some problem going on. I only took her here because I don't feel it right to have her running around in the rain in her state.

\- What problem?

\- I don't know, but I ordered her to dry herself at first. She may receive a sip of rum, but only a sip. Florian?

\- He is I don't know where… he was worried about you and I fainted.

\- All right, I will have a word with him.

\- But if you did not go to fetch Lily, why did you leave?

\- I am telling you only with the condition you are not saying a word to Mahtab before he finds out himself.

\- Mahtab?

\- Yes. You will understand later, but at first I am going to talk to Florian and please don't ask questions. And he shall not pester the ballerina over there. Take care of her please I am busy. Ask her what is it and try to talk to her like a woman to a woman or such. I was never pregnant I don1t know what to do to such a little… THING she is.

The way Erik said "thing" was worse than if he called her a whore. He nearly spat, and Christine thought, he would have, if he wasn't trying his best to remain a gentleman.

With a sigh, she collected all her empathy, and walked back to the study to talk to Lily.

The girl was nervously walking around in the room, Christine had a hard time to make her sit down finally and calm down a little.

\- Take care of the baby, dear. Please if you are nervous, the baby might be harmed in your belly.

\- You don't hate me? - Se sniffed.

\- Oh no. - Christine shook her head. - Florian and you are just silly children. Silly- silly children.

With a forgiving smile, she stroke the girl's face with the back of her hand.

In Flo's room, there were not much words spoken between father and son. When the boy saw his father he jumped into his arms without a word and started crying, with love, relief and guilt. Erik knew what was on Flo's mind and he did not say a single word either, no accusations, just played with his son's curly locks playfully, and with love. He kissed Flo's forehead and dried his eyes with his handkerchief, and only after that he softly said in French:

\- I love you.

\- I love you too Papa.- Flo replied in French - and you are beautiful.

\- Am I? - Erik smiled. - And am I even more beautiful if I tell you your little lover is here, eh?

But before they could say another word the door opened and Christine tucked her head in with a shock. - Erik… Lily says her aunt is dying… she needs a doctor… she heard you were a doctor… she has no money to call a real one, but she heard you two with Mahtab gave back Greg's voice…

\- What has happened? - Flo gasped.

\- Lily told her the news about the baby and she squeezed her heart and collapsed…

Erik jumped up and hurried to his oldest's door to knock:

\- Mahtab, come with me I need assistance. Doctors are needed.


	84. Chapter 84

Mahtab got slightly worried about the assistance he had to provide, but he was ashamed to think he was excited in a scientific manner as well. It was a responsible task, and he was going to help Papa with something so important… He could not wait to be present and help with a possible heart attack, as it seemed to be that, from the things he heard.

\- Save her please. - Lily whispered when Mahtab passed her. - I have no one… no one left but her..

\- Don't worry. We will do everything humanly possible. - Mahtab replied with compassion, and only this sentence made him understand they were heading to see a living person. Not only a machine they had to repair, not just to change a stuck gear wheel, and everything was going to work flawlessly again. That worrying poor ballerina was so helpless to see. He unintentionally placed his hand on her shoulder, and patted it, without another word. He turned away in hurry to fetch his cloak and they were ready to go.

\- Go to bed, Florian, and don't pester the "ballerina". - Erik warned. - Oh, put her to bed as well…; not in the same bed with you, mind you. We are not taking longer than it is necessary. Everyone go to bed and sleep.

The way Erik intoned the word "ballerina" sounded like he was using that word as an insult, yet again.

Flo nodded, and turned away from the door after he shut it behind Papa and Mahtab. He awkwardly approached his lover, not knowing what to say to make her feel better after all of these sad happenings.

\- Whatever happens… I love you. - He said finally, after a long pause.

\- Do you? - Lily dried her tears. - Do you really?

\- I do. - Flo nodded. - And always will. I am going to marry you as soon as possible. No matter what.

\- Won't you get in trouble for loving me? - She walked closer, desperately hugging Flo. - I love you too, but your family…

\- They like you a lot. - Flo reassured.

\- No. Your father sure hates me. - She sniffed.

\- He doesn't. - Flo shook his head. - He isn't that bad as he seems to be sometimes, he has a good heart. But this situation was… a bit of unexpected for him and…

\- He thinks me as a whore. - Lily closed her eyes.

\- Maybe. - Flo sighed. - But if it is so, it is only because he does not know you enough yet. He is going to change his mind once he knows you better.

\- If he wants to know me at all. - She replied sadly. - He told me I arrived just in time as you were travelling back to Paris… did you know that?

\- He told me. - Flo hugged Lily closer to himself, not exactly knowing what to do at that moment. - I have to finish school you see.

\- And what… what will happen to us… to you, the baby… and me?

\- I wish I knew what to answer. - Flo whispered. - Papa is right in the end, it seems to be… I am nothing but a child yet… I need guidance. I can't offer you anything. I have no regular income… no home other than my father's. I know nothing but music. No job, no proper schooling… nothing. Nothing but my love. But it is there and endless. Only… we can't buy bread from out of love… and I made you give birth to a child… I am sorry.

\- It is my fault. I was foolish. I mean not at that night… but…

\- We did not take care. - Flo sighed. - But I like babies.

\- Me too. - Lily whispered.

\- I think- a new voice joined the conversation suddenly, - it is too late for this discussion already. Both literally and theoretically speaking. Please, follow me, Lily, I show you where you will sleep tonight. You shall try to sleep, you need strength to take care of my grandchild. Flo, dear go to bed too, please. Papa might return soon, and he won't be pleased seeing you still up. Good night.

Christine gently patted Lily's back and led her out of the salon to Belle's room.

-Lily - Christine spoke softly as they were heading the other room, her beautiful voice rang reassuringly in the girl's ear- I know that you think my husband hates you, but it is not true. He seems though, and his heart is hard to gain, for sure, but it is because he was treated rough most of his life. He doesn't always know how to respond to unexpected events, and he wants the best for his children. I know he seems like a hateful person at first, but he only needs time to calm down and get used to the situation. He loves young children, and is a very good father in general.

\- Is he? - Lily asked shyly.

\- Yes, he is. And he will be a good grandfather too, I am sure. Just give him time, and don't take anything he says in a sudden mood swing too seriously.

\- I will try my best. - She nodded with a faint smile appearing on her pale face.

\- Now go to bed, dear and try to rest and take care of my grandchild.

She felt like it will be the best to make the newcomer girl sleep with another girl for that night, and to make her comfortable, she now made the bed for Belle on the couch so Lily gets the bed. She has to take care of the baby. Belle, thankfully did not fuss about having to sleep on the couch. On the contrary, she was excited about this small change, and the presence of a big girl in her room too. Especially when she heard Lily was a ballet dancer.

\- Lily, are you a real dancer? - Belle's green eyes lit up in interest.

\- Yes. - She nodded. - But I can't dance for too long now because of the baby. - She added sadly.

\- Are you going to have a small baby? A real small baby?

\- Yes. - Lily nodded again, now smiling.

\- Do you want a boy or a girl baby? - Belle inquired.

\- I don't know. - Lily replied. - Maybe a little girl will be nice. Like you.

\- Me? - Belle chuckled.

\- Yes, you are cute. Do you like to dance?

\- Yes, a lot. I told Papa I wished to be a ballet dancer.

\- And what did he say? - Lily frowned, knowing Erik used the word as an insult and a synonym for "whore".

\- He said he did not know yet. - Belle shrugged. - Maybe.

This "maybe" left no doubt in Lily's heart that Erik did not have a good opinion about ballerinas in general and considered them cheap women, and she turned to face the wall with a deep sigh, and some tears ran down on her face. She could only hope things were going to get better with time, and maybe Auntie Elise will be more accepting towards the baby than Flo's father. In a family, it is always the father who decides about important things… and Flo's father won't decide anything positive regarding her future.

The grandfather's clock in the hall chimed two when the front door opened and the two missing family members stepped inside.

\- Go to bed. - Erik was the first one to speak, it was followed by a deep sigh.

\- I can't. - Mahtab replied. - Please let me stay with you.

\- You need to rest, son. Please try to sleep.

\- How could I? - Mahtab shook his head while trying to fight back his tears.

\- A man does not cry. - Erik warned. - At least not about things he can't change.

\- Papa… why…? Why…?

\- You can't always be successful. Failure happens. I hate it more than everything, but it does.

\- It is my fault. - Mahtab baulked.

\- Oh boys, you are home finally. - Christine stepped out of the master bedroom, wearing nothing but a nightgown, looking around with worry. - It is so late, I was already worried.

No answer came. Erik tried his best to calm Mahtab, who now started crying finally.

\- What is wrong? - Christine stepped closer.

\- She is dead. - Erik responded coldly.

\- Oh my dear God. - Christine made the sign of the cross with a little gasp.

\- Go back to bed, Christine, we will talk later. Mahtab. Go to bed. You are tired.

Mahtab nodded, drying his eyes with his sleeve, taking a sharp inhale to stop his coming tears. He was trying hard to fight with his emotions, but turned back from the door frame towards Erik.

\- May I have…?

\- Laudanum, yes. I will bring it for you, go to bed.

Christine refused to go back to sleep, she sat down in Erik's study, waiting for her husband to retreat in there. She already knew him, and knew he won't be heading to the bedroom to sleep, but to the study to work out his emotions maybe with some music. She prepared a glass of wine and a cigar for him with some sheet music paper, and sat down to the chair next to the desk. It was usually Mahtab's place when he was present in the room. Christine wasn't wrong. In a few minutes Erik entered the room, and walked to the desk. He looked at Christine and nodded, acknowledging her presence. He knew it was no use to argue with her to go to sleep, as Christine, his dear sweet Christine was just as stubborn as him in this aspect.

\- Would you like a glass too? - Erik finally spoke, looking at her.

\- No, thank you. Don't bother with me, Erik, I am just here if you need some support. But I ask nothing.

\- Thank you. - Erik sighed in relief, sitting down. He sipped some of the wine, then removed his mask, and carelessly tossed it behind his back. It landed on the floor. It was another sign of his bad mood- he did not even pay attention to being painfully organized, as he was when he wasn't bothered by anything. With a deep sigh, he massaged his temples for a few moments, then searched in his pocket for the matches. He did not light the cigar though, only was turning the match between his long fingers. He seemed to be thinking. Christine gently massaged his shoulders without a word, as she knew Erik was always stiff when he was having problems. Erik looked up to her, glanced longly in her eyes, then finally smiled.

\- Even if the world falls apart, you are here with me. You are my life and its meaning. Thank you.

\- It is the darkest outside before dawn. - Christine reassured.

\- I am not in the mood to argue about your endless optimism, my dear. - Erik sighed. - But I have to tell you I could use some words of encouragement at the moment.

\- I am sure you did everything possible to save her. - Christine patted Erik's back.

\- Mahtab thinks he killed her. - Erik moaned. - I told him it wasn't true, but… meh.

\- Why? Did he try to revive her?

\- She wasn't unconscious any more when we arrived there, only… she wasn't in the best of health. She was hysteric about me. You see, being Flo's father did not help the issue. This is why I should have just given her money to call a doctor in the first place. Damn it.

Christine, though she did not understand most of the situation Erik was talking about, did not ask any more questions, just as she promised it. It was a good sign in itself Erik did start to speak by himself. Nagging him would make him only more upset. He will tell what he has to tell to eas his pain, if she is patient. Erik noticed he wasn't asked f any bothering questions, and it made him feel at least somewhat calmer. He lay back in his chair, now looking at the match he was still twirling between his fingers.

\- Do you mind if I smoke? - He asked softly.

\- I never minded it. - Christine smiled. - Some of your cigars remind me of the smell of Papa. He used to smoke a pipe when he had money for tobacco, and some of the cigars you have smell like that.

Erik only nodded to that confession, and Christine's smile made him smile as well, only briefly, but it was a sign of hope they were able to work things out. He did not talk for long time, he was trying to calm himself by smoking, which was partly successful - this is why he did it sometimes in the first place.

\- I was just worried about your voice in the past. - Christine talked out loud again, looking at Erik. - But you don't smoke so often to cause harm to it.

\- This is why I never got addicted to it for a hundred percent. - He admitted. - The only appealing trait I have.

\- You have more appealing things in you than just your voice. - Christine stated.

\- I can imagine. - Erik shrugged.

\- I would not trade you for anything.

Erik's pupils widened a bit, but then he smiled again.

\- You keep telling me things like these up until the point I believe compliments. In the end you will be right. You tamed the Opera Ghost. - Another d sigh escaped from his lips and he took another sip of wine.

\- Erik…? - Christine called out again after long minutes of silence.

\- Yes, Christine? - He asked in a noticeably better mod.

\- About your voice, something had come to my mind.

\- What is that my love?

She did not reply, but took a deep breath and softly, not to wake anyone else in the house, she started humming as she leaned closer to Erik. "Romeo and Juliet." That special part which Erik had sang to her back in those days. It was a meaningful piece for both of them, yet it was rarely performed between them. They found it a wiser idea not to bother the Angel of Music issue too much after the wedding, but at that time Christine wanted to go back to the roots.

"Fate links thee to me forever and a day."

They sang together, softly, but full of love, and after a few moments they found themselves in each other's arms, and soon the duet stopped because their lips were sealed with a passionate, heartfelt kiss.

Silence fell on them and Christine felt so tired and calm in a strange way. She knew that a tragedy had happened, but love for his husband was more powerful at that time, and in Erik's embrace, she slowly ended up sitting on his lap, and her head was placed on Erik1s shoulder. He lovingly stroke her cheek with his thumb, softly and delightedly humming to her. His heart was freed from the burden, at least temporarily. He was so happy, holding Christine in his arms, after s an awkward and unfortunate evening. Only one thing was sure: he had a loving wife with him, who adored him no matter what. He thought it was unimaginable, but it was true: he had a wife for 23 years, and she did not get repulsed by him, despite all of the happenings taking place in their life together.

After some more cradling, Erik noticed his little wife had fallen asleep on his lap. Gently, not to wake her up, he carried her to the bedroom after a time and put her to bed, and as a loving and caring husband, he covered her up as well.

\- God natt Kristine.

He whispered on his wife's rarely used native with love and walked away, not to bother her peaceful slumber.

In the salon, he noticed someone sitting in one of the armchairs. Oh, did Mahtab not receive enough laudanum and he woke up?

\- Sweetie, go back to bed and I give you some more medicine. - He sighed softly.

\- During all these years you have never called me sweetie, but I could use some explanation at least. I think it is you who needs medicine. - The Persian turned back to face Erik, who was indeed a bit of pale.

\- You? - Erik snorted. - Why don't you sleep and keep your big nose out of my business?

\- I believe you could feel better telling me what had happened. Drowning all these emotions won't do you any good. What is Moonlight's problem? Why he blames himself?

\- It was a misfortunate turn of events which he can't do about. That witch was already in a bad shape, her heart just could not take all of this.

\- All of what?

\- At first, the bigger problem was, of course, that the ballet rat told her the news of her pregnancy too abruptly. Such an old thing can't handle stress too well. She told me the witch was unconscious, but she wasn't any more when we arrived. She spat out angrily she did not need any kind of doctors, especially not me, who was the father of that boy who ruined the girl's career. Good joke. I do believe Florian did not force the rat into bed with my pistol. Anyway, she was making too much noise and jumped around, even though she was hardly able to breathe. Mahtab… wanted to hold her still, but he wasn't careful enough to hold the witch's hands as well.

\- Did she harm him?

\- She… did, but not physically. - Erik looked away in embarrassment. - She ripped off the mask.

The Persian closed his eyes and shook his head rapidly.

\- So you know. - Erik bit his lip and tried his best not to cry. - I tried telling him she would have died anyway… we were too late… and her heart was too weak… but now Mahtab thinks his face gave her the final shock.

\- I understand now. - The Daroga nodded slowly. - But now what shall happen?

\- I most certainly do not know. - Erik sighed. - The only thing I am sure about is that we now sure, and with a hundred percent accuracy, have to leave London. As soon as we are finished with the funeral.

\- And… Lily?

\- Now what can I do? - Erik waved in the air helplessly. - The rat is 15, and she has no relatives to take care of her. She comes with us. I am going to send her to the École des rats after she is in a good enough shape after the childbirth.

\- But… who takes care of the child?

\- Who- who? Who else than the happy grandparents. - Erik snorted. - They created that kid for us anyway. I raised my own kids and now I can start raising their kids. But one thing is sure: this is the last one. The very last one I am willing to help with.

\- I knew you were going to change your mind.

\- I am FORCED to.

\- You would have. Anyway.

\- You shall go and work at a circus with mind reading. - Erik remarked sarcastically. - Even if you are wrong, you will earn a lot. People are easy to fool.

\- Moonlight will be sad. - The Daroga sighed. - Poor little dear, she faced this shock and she has to leave the city and his little lover.

\- I tell you something. - Erik pointed at the Daroga with his index finger threateningly - But if I hear it back, I will be certain whose tongue to cut out.

\- What is that? My lips are sealed.

\- Bonnie is coming to Paris with us and starts her scholarship at The University of Arts.

\- Allah… how could you make that happen?

\- I spent a good and tiring 4 hours of convincing her father to realize what a great artist his daughter was and such paintings she can make, she has a good chance of having an exhibition at the city of arts and love. Paris is a cultural and artistic centre of Europe.

\- Allah above, you sure work hard to make your children happy.

\- They deserve it. - Erik wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. - Even if I die of it, they shall be as happy as they can be. This is a parent's job.


	85. Chapter 85

Poor little Lily could not find her place in that new family she was suddenly added to in utter hurry and inconvenience after that miserable tragedy she had gone through. She suddenly became to stay all alone in the world, surrounded by kind, but distant people at the moment, except for Flo and her kind "mother - in- law", Christine, who treated her just like a daughter from the first time, expecting a child at the age of not even 16 yet, being afraid of the coming future, including childbirth. She had heard many awful things about childbirth, it being utterly and unbearably painful, dangerous… and her mother died of that as well… maybe she did not even have to worry about the coming future, she wondered? Maybe she had less time remaining than she would think?

The morning of the funeral of her only remaining relative found her unable to get up from bed, as she was feeling too weak to even sit up and move. This was the sign which frightened her even more- here comes the day of her death… She cried help- and hopelessly, while Christine was trying to comfort her to the best of her abilities, acting like a supportive mother and sister at the same time. Lily felt she was unable to attend to Auntie's funeral, which was organized and paid for by that frightening tall and thin grumpy old man who would be able to kill her by a glance, as she felt, and would have most likely and preferably drowned her in a spoonful of water most of the time. In the end, the only people attending said funeral were the Persian, Erik, Flo, Mahtab and the priest, who did the easiest, cheapest and shortest ceremony possible for a lady, who "was hardly known and mattered nothing in the end" as Erik drily characterized her in a sudden bitter outrage after her passing.

Mahtab was relieved he did not have to attend a funeral which would have been full of painfully long listing of virtues of said late relative, giving him even deeper remorse than he had anyway. He felt awful seeing Lily laying in the bed, crying for her lost Aunt he accidentally helped out to reach afterlife. He was only able to hope Auntie was a good person and will go to Heaven or the Paradise as Tonton said… but thinking of the possibility of the old lady seeing Heaven did not lift his spirits and did not help him accept the catastrophe he had caused yet again. Now he hother opportunity to understand what Papa meant by "accursed ugliness" when talking about themselves. Yes, they accidentally are able to kill someone… and the horrible thing was he still did not feel guilt about his first murder he committed years ago to save Gregory. He felt real guilt only about this death, yet both Tonton and Papa had told him many times since the happenings he had nothing to do with it and the old thing most likely would have died just as fine as she did anyway. Yes, but why was it this way? Why she had to SEE him before it happened?

In a much worse mood than Flo was in, Mahtab was walking home next to Papa, wanting to get some emotional strength from out of his presence nearby, sometimes looking him right into the eye. Erik1s glance was always understanding but reassuring at the same time, and in the end he put his hand on his insecure son's shoulder, and squeezed it with fatherly love and passion. This was the first time since the happenings when Mahtab was able to smile a little.

Erik suddenly stopped, leaning against a wall with his back and waved dismissively at the others who stopped to see what was wrong with him.

\- Go on, Daroga, I am fine.

\- Are you sure?

\- Yes, just my leg hurts a bit again. But nothing serious.

\- Do you want me to stay near and help you? - Mahtab offered, noticing the hint in his father's eyes that he wanted to talk between just the two of them.

\- Yes please, but not right away, I need to rest a bit. Daroga, Flo, go home and wait for us, we are following you shortly.

Thankfully the others understood the situation as well, so they just left without any more questions. When they were out of hearing range finally, Mahtab was the first one to speak.

\- Deep down I know, with my mind, that it was just a miserable accident. Yet I can't get away from the thought I had caused it. Will it ever get better?

\- Honestly, I do not know. - Erik shook his head, looking at Mahtab with pity. - Self- loathing and accusing yourself over deaths is very likely in our situation, son. I know what you are going thorugh, I can only say that I understand. I know only that problem is even bigger if people around you keep blaming you for it, but as you see, nothing like this happened at us.

\- I thought only because you all love me too much to tell me the truth.

\- Oh no. - Erik shook his head. - Yet I wished she would have seen my face instead of yours, I still think you had nothing to do with this. I repeat it for the last time, Mahtab. Her heart condition in itself was fatal. It was impossible to save her.

\- You said nothing was impossible if someone really wanted it. You kept repeating it through all of my childhood.

\- Nothing but avoiding the inevitable death. - Erik sighed. - Whatever you do, it comes. Sooner or later, through illness, accidents or murder. But it will come. And this, my son, wasn't murder. Please, at least, believe me. In this aspect, I am more educated and my knowledge is larger than any other human being's Death and murder used to be MY LIFE.

\- You were trying hard enough to save me from that fate. - Mahtab admitted softly. - Seems like my looks only doesn't make me doomed?

\- Doomed? Oh no. Only if you choose to be doomed. There were times I wholeheartedly believed one was to be doomed and become a monster with a face like this and has no chance of living a life like everyone else. But in the past more than 20 years I managed it quite well, don't you agree? And you shall manage even better, having a better childhood than your father. At least you were, and are loved. Don't forget this, whatever happens.

Mahtab could not help but hugged Erik tight, putting his head on his shoulder. All his childhood came to his mind, where his parents always loved and accepted him so much, he really had nothing to complain about. The times he spent sitting on Mama's and Papa's lap, sleeping between them, when he squeezed Papa's finger with his so small hands while walking back then, and remembered Papa warning him "Always take my hand, Mahtab." All of these sentences and scenes meant "I love you no matter who you are". They even accepted his strange request about wanting to be a boy and living the life of a male, despite originally being born as a female. What is this if not love? Poor Papa did not have half of this acceptance in his life before meeting Mama. He was never loved by anyone before, and no one cared about him, no one wanted to save him from nightmares or accidentally running out to the road. And still he is a good person, especially since he is married.

At that point he suddenly thought of Bonnie. This was the issue which bothered him about leaving the city of London soon, but he did not wish to tell it, knowing Papa must be feeling guilty about it anyway.

\- Everything that bothers you will turn to the better. - Erik patted Mahtab's back reassuringly. - Just keep believing as you did before. You inherited a considerable amount of optimism from your dear Mother. Use it.

Mahtab laughed out shortly, then again, with an insecure look, he asked:

\- And what about Lily?

\- What do you mean? Why do you bother?

\- What if she thinks… if she thinks… does she know what has happened to her Aunt…?

\- Why do you care about what that ballet rat thinks about you or anyone else in the family? - Erik snorted. - Do you think she MATTERS at all in my eyes?

\- She is part of the family as I see. - Mahtab replied with surprise.

\- I wish she wasn't, if it was up to me.

\- Flo loves her. - Mahtab sighed.

\- Flo loves anyone who wears a skirt.

\- This is not like his other love interests, Papa. He really loves her.

\- She is just another number on Don Juan's List. - Erik made a grimace.

\- She is a nice girl in general. Don't you think so? Mama likes her too.

\- You and your dear, sweet and naive mother think everyone who isn't visibly heading towards you with an axe in their hands, a nice person. I do believe she is just a clever ballet rat who exactly knew who to go to bed with and whose family to use to get higher in society.

\- Papa, we are not aristocrats.

\- No. But I worked hard to get where I am now. And I give all of you a proper education and position to start your life to the best of your abilities… and what he does?

\- I thought you have accepted Flo's decision and think Lily as a family member.

\- Oh, but of course she is. - Erik sighed in annoyance. - As she has no living relatives at all any more, I have to adopt her, as if I send her to an orphanage your little brother won't talk to me ever again. But as she is successfully impregnated right now and expecting an offspring in her teens, I don't only have to adopt the baby is about to be born, having the situation of BOTH of its parents being under age, unable to either legally or financially take care of that child, but even its MOTHER. So, I adopt my grandchild and my damned daughter- in -law with one single signature, being a father- in law and a father, and a grandfather and father in one person. Isn't it a nice situation, tell me? Isn't it a bit of too much responsibility to take for an old and tired man in his seventies? I don't want to take the ballet rat to Paris with us, believe me. But I have to. I have no choice.

\- You forget only one thing. - Now it was Mahtab being the emotionally more composed and more serious one from out of them. - That you are not alone for this task. It is not only your problem. We are a family, you see. This is what you always taught us about. We help each other. That child won't only be your responsibility. It is going to have uncles, great uncle, if you consider Tonton that, and a grandmother. And I am sure, despite Flo and Lily being teens, they will do a great job of taking care of the baby with only some help needed. And we are here to help them and you.

Erik fell silent just when he could finally be honest about his true feelings to someone in his family, and he did not have to disappoint. Mahtab did not judge him for being tired of constantly having to take responsibility for someone and that he felt it was too much for him. He understood his father and even helped him by listening and reassuring everything will be all right.

With a sigh and finally a smile, he adjusted his glasses and leaned against Mahtab's shoulder.

\- We may go now. Thank you.

\- Are you really in pain? - Mahtab asked with worry. - I thought you only pretended so to be able to talk to me in private.

\- Partly yes, but my left knee is bothering me for the last few days in reality. - Erik replied with a bitter chuckle.

When they arrived back to the apartment, they saw Christine's pale form emerging from Belle's room and pouring herself a glass of wine. Erik instantly knew if his wife desires wine to drink in the middle of the afternoon, there is something wrong.

\- What has happened? - He approached her with worry.

\- She is so tortured. - Christine lifted up her glass with trembling hands. - I have been trying to comfort her all day long. Nothing helps. She is crying and… I am afraid she is going to lose the baby if she keeps going on like this.

\- And what makes her so "tortured"? - Erik moaned angrily. - Is her pillow not soft enough?

\- Erik… - she sighed. - Especially this is what makes her tortured. Your hatred.

\- I don't hate her, I just can't stand her.

\- Isn't it all the same? - Christine snorted.

\- No. If I hated her I would not have allowed her to set a foot in my house, and would have most likely killed her in my youth. Now I just can not stand her presence and cried out eyes. She has no problem at all, other than losing an Aunt, who would have died anyway in a few months time.

\- No problem at all? - Christine grabbed Erik's shoulder in a sudden fury. - Do you know what is it like to be pregnant? Do you know what is it like to be a young girl, all alone in the world, having no one?

\- Having no one is familiar. Being pregnant isn't, and I know it isn't easy but must I feel sorry for her for her own mistake? She cooked it for herself. Now she has to eat it.

\- Have you not made "mistakes" at all in your life? - She retorted, pointing at him.

\- I have. - He admitted tiredly, not wanting to get involved in a fight.

\- I have never thought you would be so cruel to the girl your son clearly loves and choose for himself.

\- Oh come on. - Erik waved in the air. - A Romeo and Juliet kind of love, such a sweet couple I have to throw up..

\- Then tuck your thick head in Belle's door and see them. You can decide for yourself!

Christine turned around and walked to the master bedroom's adjacent bath to wash her pale face from sweat and tears of frustration. Erik headed to the door and peeked inside with a shrug, to see what was so special to see about two teens making a Shakespearean drama come to life. What he saw though, was really something special.

Flo was sitting on the edge of the bed, silently holding Lily's hand watching her as she was trying to rest. He softly started humming after a few seconds and the girl's face reflected a tired smile finally, after all the crying she was gone through. Flo put his hand on her belly and rubbed it comfortingly, suddenly whispering:

\- Hush now my sweet little child, Papa is here to make you and Mommy sleep.

Did Flo, the childish, irresponsible, flirtatious boy with such a painfully narrow interest as music and women, just testify traits he seemed to lack by far, and become a man? Did he just show how much he really loved that only one girl and no one else? Did he just state he was willing to raise the child? Did he mean it before as well, and wasn't it just said by a sudden virtue of wanting to play the role of an adult? No, it is not roleplaying. It is life. Life of a young boy, who knows what he wants and won't make his family do everything instead of him.

\- They grow up so fast. - Erik sighed nearly inaudibly as he carefully shut the door behind himself and staggered away in awe. He was searching in his pocket for his handkerchief and dried his eyes of tears. And those tears, for the first time in this situation, weren't shed by frustration and hatred, but being touched of two lovers and their child…

His grandchild.

This was the first time he considered the unborn to be a legitimate relative of his own. Up until this time, it was just the bastard of Flo's love interest.

After Flo emerged from the bedroom of her lover and noticed his father waiting for him, he did not exactly know what to think when Papa asked him how "his daughter" was. Flo guessed wrongly it was Belle he was referring to, so he just replied Belle was nagging Noel and Greg at that moment to play tea party with them, but the boys don't really wish to join in that activity.

\- You misunderstand, my dear. - Erik corrected with a smile. - I mean your wife.

Flo did not know if he heard it right, but after he decided to believe his great musician ears, so he smiled and replied:

\- She is better. Now sleeping.

\- Is she in pain?

\- Umm… none that I know of. - Flo scratched his ear in disbelief.

\- This is good to hear. You might not know, my sweet son, but pregnancy does wear women out, especially if someone is so fragile and young as Lily. Please take good care of her and help her with everything she needs help with - you are a man now, after all.

Flo did not believe his ears the least. Papa, up until this point said nothing but he did not care about Lily and this was the very first time he called her by her name, and the unimaginable thing happened: he called Lily as his wife. Did Papa finally accept their love? But why so suddenly? In the morning he was muttering under his breath about Lily being a drama queen, and now he wants her to be treated kindly? Well, Papa always had mood swings…

Flo ran to Papa and hugged him tight, with tears of joy running down his face.

\- I knew you will get to like her as soon as you get to know her… Papa… thank you… I knew you did not hate her…

Christine, seeing the earlier scene, finally smiled and shook her head with a relieved sigh. She knew her husband can't be the monster without feelings… the Phantom of the Opera… he isn't that any more.

When Lily woke up in the evening and Flo wanted to bring dinner for her, Erik gently took the tray from out of his son1s hands and asked for permission to bring it in. Flo nodded with a smile.

\- Well, my dear girl, how are you in this evening? - Erik closed the door behind himself with his foot and walked towards the bed.

\- Me? - Lily sat up in bed, understanding nothing of the situation.

\- Of course. Are you feeling better, my child?

\- Yes, I am, Sir…

\- Oh please. - Erik shook his head and gently placed the tray on her lap. - Call me Erik… or Papa… or anyway you want to, but don't use Sir any more with me. Please.

\- You asked me to call you Sir and not to touch you unless it is absolutely necessary. - She baulked.

\- Oh do forgive me for that misbehavior, please. I was in a mental state which makes me grumpy most of the time, because of the sudden situation I got into. You have to understand and must not fear me any more, I am not going to hurt you, on the contrary.

\- And you… Are you angry with me… Erik…? I… I just… love Flo so much and…

\- Yes I know you do. Both of you do love each other and it is adorable.

\- And the baby?

\- I am sure it will inherit the best traits of both of you. I can't wait to see it for the first time, so please take care of my grandchild. And this, my dear, includes of you eating all of this tasty chicken soup. I made it for you. Don't worry it isn't poisoned.

He was a bit of cautious he had scared her with that last sentence though, but it was just his usual dark sense of humor and he added it without thinking first. To his surprise though, Lily did not get scared, but laughed out at the remark.

\- Now you say it, I believe. - She nodded and took a spoonful of soup and tasted it. - It is very good. - She smiled. - Thank you… thank you…

Erik put his hand on her shoulder and smiled at her reassuringly.

\- Just eat all of it. And rest. And when you are feeling well enough, we shall go home to start a new life together. Fear not, child. We are here for you. You are not alone.

Those last sentences finally eased Lily's pain and fear about the future. She knew it won't be easy for her to go to a foreign country with these new people, but there were nothing to link her to London any more. She knew great adventures start like this in stories and she at last had something she feared and carved so much: acceptance of the father of the family. Now that she was loved, she was sure nothing wrong was going to happen.


	86. Chapter 86

\- I am going to be an Uncle. - Noel was proudly tasting these words, as he was smiling widely. - An Uncle. Uncle Noel. I hope it will be a boy, so I can teach him everything I know.

\- How to cheat in card games, for example? - Greg retorted playfully while passing his older brother. They liked each other, but they were teasing each other a lot, of course, nothing serious was going on between them.

\- For the last time, Mister Gregory, I state I wasn't cheating. Merely I was showing you some card tricks to make the party be a more interesting one.

\- And that is how you accidentally won the game. - Greg laughed out on his monotonous sounding voice which was similar to a robot's laughing. A bit weird for someone who did not know the reason behind it, but the family accepted him with it, and was happy for it.

\- You are too young to understand such a business. - Noel messed up his brother's hair and stuck his tongue out on him. - And besides, Englishmen never understand humor.

\- Noel, I don't wish to hear another sentence like this ever again. - Christine stepped into the room with a pile of freshly washed clothes and put it down on the bed. - Put these clothes in your suitcases, boys. We have to get ready for leaving next Monday, so keep using only the most necessary things until that. Papa just arrived back with the tickets for the ship.

\- Yes, Mama. - Greg jumped to reach out for his clothes obediently.

\- I am sorry, Mama. - Noel said with surprise. - But why can't we joke about English people?

\- It is not about being English or not, but about making degrading remarks about someone else's nationality. When you all will be together I am going to tell you a few words regarding this matter.

Christine left the room, slowly collecting her thoughts about what she had to tell the children later, and how to word those sentences. She had felt earlier as well this was a talk which had to be done at some time, but since they both have Lily and Greg in their family with foreign roots or heritage, she knew she had to tell it to them before they arrive back to Paris. She absently looked around, noticing Erik writing something at his desk. She peeked inside the open door of the study, and curiously walked closer.

\- What is my sweet husband working on? - her angelic voice caressed Erik's ears, and he couldn't help, but looked up and turned to Christine, smiling.

\- Proofreading and correcting French homework for the children. They forget their own native in merely a few years time. Shame. Look at this grammar your son is using. - He pointed at a line with his bony finger in Noel's homework.

\- If they make mistakes, they are my sons. - Christine chuckled. - When they make you proud, they are your sons.

\- They are our sons, no matter what, but I like to act grumpy. - Erik admitted and shook his head.

\- And we love you this way. - Christine placed a soft kiss on the top of his head, while Erik thankfully and lovingly squeezed her hand leaning on his shoulder. - Anyway, I would prefer, my sweet Christine if you too, started talking to the children in French only again.

\- It will be hard for Greg. We have to take him into consideration, let alone Lily. She won't understand a word, she never spoke French before.

\- Do you think Russians started switching to French any time I visited Russia for me to have the honor of talking to me? - Erik retorted.

\- No. - Christine shook her head with a tired little snort.

\- And thee Persians?

\- No. - Christine shook her head again.

\- Chinese? Italians?

\- Italian is almost French. - She pouted, wanting to change the subject.

\- See? They have to make efforts to adapt to the country they will be taken to and they never learn the language if they are pampered and never have to use the language.

\- Partly you are right, but you are too strict in this matter. - She shook her head in dismay. - I see you too will have to hear what I tell the children in the evening.

With that, she kissed Erik's head again, and with a final small back rub, she left the room to let Erik work in peace.

In the evening, when everyone but Lily was sitting in the living room, the adults having either a glass of wine or a cup of tea, and the children received their hot coco before bedtime, Christine announced she was going to tell a story. The children were extremely happy for this, they loved when any of the parents told them a bedtime story, it was usually Erik, though, so they appreciated the change. Greg and Belle instantly sat next to Mama's feet on two pillows, and Noel, who loved to listen to stories in the most comfortable way possible, lay across the sofa with his hands folded under his head. Flo curiously stopped writing music, looking at Mama, and Mahtab just sat closer to Erik, silently waiting for Mama to start talking.

\- Today's story is a bit of unique you see. - Christine stated smiling. - It wasn't written by famous authors like the ones Papa reads to you mostly. It was written by life itself.

\- Life can write stories? - Belle asked with a hint of confuse.

\- It can write the most interesting ones, my sweetie. - Christine patted the tiny head and stroke the red curls between her fingers.

 _ _Once upon a time, in a country far to the North, where people speak a strange language and winters are long and cold, there lived a little girl. She was an only child of a loving Mama and Papa. They lived in a small house, and were rich in love but poor in wealth. Mama was ill, and could not move her feet, so she needed a lot of help from the small family. But they did not mind it at all, on the contrary.__

\- It is like Tonton when he could not move his hand. - Flo stated a bit of sadly.

\- Yes but now he can. - The Daroga smiled, with a thankful expression, moving his hand which used to be unusable for a time.

\- Maybe the little Girl's Mama will heal as well. - Greg smiled hopefully, though he knew deep down in his heart it was unlikely. It happened to him before… Mama just left for Heaven.

\- Sadly not. - Christine shook her head and some tears were forming in the corner of her clear blue eyes, but she composed herself quickly.

 _ _For six years, the family lived as every family should, in love and peace, until Mama got sick. She was in bed for weeks, and the small girl was worried about her, never leaving her side. One morning, Mama reached out for the girl's head, stroke her hair for the last time, and said "I love you" in that strange language, then closed her eyes for the last time. She was no more, and the little girl was alone with Papa from that time.__

\- This is a sad story, Mama. - Belle, climbed closer, seeking for comfort. - Will it be so sad all the time?

\- No, dear, but you have to know life isn't always easy and happy. - Christine kissed Belle's forehead with an apologetic little smile.

 _ _Don't feel too much sorry for the young girl yet. She was sad, of course, but Papa, her dear and sweet Papa was so good to her she felt safe and loved with only him as well. A very adventurous life had started for the little girl: she was travelling all around the world with Papa, to see many countries and meeting new friends on the way. Papa was a violinist. He was playing music for all kinds of audiences in every town and country they have visited. All of the world was their home, and yet they had no real home.__

 _ _You know, my darlings, there are two kinds of musicians. One is the kind who gives concerts at concert halls or opera houses, in front of the richer audience, and travels only to see similar concert halls around the world, playing music of classical masterpieces… and there is the street musician who plays music by one single instrument in front of the poorer audience, mostly on the streets or sometimes at the inns. They often play folklore tunes or dances everybody knows. Papa was the latter, and this way they have met many people who liked his music. The small girl was so proud of him, admiring him while he played.__

\- Papa is both of these musicians, is he? - Noel corrected. - I mean he said he used to play for crowds on the street but he also played in Flo's symphony.

\- I am not a musician by profession. - Erik retorted. - Please don't interrupt your Mother all the time, you all will have to go to bed soon.

Christine smiled at Erik's grumpiness yet again, but she sent a playful wink towards him. Erik acknowledged it with a hardly noticeable small wave of his right hand towards his wife, and winked back at her.

 _ _These latter musicians though, are not as much respected as the ones you have already seen both in Paris and here. Street violinists are poor, and they are treated as "strange" and like "they don't have a proper occupation". I know music is a hard work, but many people don't think so, and they tend to say musicians, especially street violinists, are useless, and not too much more respected than beggars and gypsies.__

 _ _Even stranger is that father and daughter are constantly talking on a strange language no one understands, and they came from a country no one knows too much about. They were always the odd outsiders who never stay in one place for a long time. Though they play and sing together nicely, no one really understands them, and they met only a few people who respected them completely. The litle girl learned some phrases on many languages, but she was yet very young, and mainly Papa spoke. She felt safe with only Papa, who was able to help her and protect her from everything. As I said, a few people were real close friends to them. In France, they once met a sweet married couple, a professor and his wife. They were the closest in the girl's life she could call as parents instead of parents.__

Christine stopped for a moment, looking around with a deep sigh. Even after these long years it was painful to recall.

 _ _The little girl neede those kind people more than anything… as there came the awful time when her Papa also fell ill and after a long illness, withering away, he passed away on day the girl wants to forget so badly.__

 _ _Yes, dears. She was left there, alone in a foreign country, without her loving Papa, with kind, but foreign people. They did their best calming her, and raised her the kindest possible, but this situation was hard in itself. You have to understand, when you have traditions and habits you and your family do, it is hard to adopt to completely new habits, after losing everyone who mattered to you. It makes you feel lonely, and sometimes it is even like you are not yourself any more. You have to learn and do new habits, speak a new language you hardly mastered yet, everyone speaks to you on that hard language suddenly, and you feel so lost. You feel shame when you don't understand something, thinking you should, and you hardly dare to speak, fearing you will make huge mistakes and everyone will laugh at you, saying you are stupid. The language you spoke before, your native, is no more. No one can speak it, and you will never hear "Good night" or "I love you" on the words you have been hearing in all your childhood so far. And… they even change your name.__

\- Change your name? - Erik gasped. - How come? Are you not Christine originally?

\- The girl in the story is Mama? - Belle gasped. - Mama is the orphan poor girl?

\- Yes, dear. - Christine nodded, kissing Belle again. - This story was a short version of what I was going through after my Papa moved to Heaven, leaving me in Perros, to the attendance of my dear second family, Mama and Papa Valerius. You have to understand they meant well. They gave me a loving home, and I am so thankful for that and I love their memories more than anything. But yes, they changed a bit of my name. When I moved to them, they thought they should write my name in a less foreign way, so that it looks more like a French name. They only wanted people not to look on a strange way when they see my name written down and not to judge me. They changed "Kristina" to "Christine". With the lack of my native tongue used, and the writing of my name changing, I felt like the last part of me being "me" was taken away as well, and now I am a completely different person.

Erik could not hear the rest of the story, as he suddenly fell deep into his thoughts. No, the last part of your personage, dear, was taken away when you had to change your father's name to a not even existent surname your husband made up, so he could give you a name "of his own". How foolish I was not even considering this all she had just told… what a fool I was…

\- We promise we won't force a foreign culture completely on Lily and Greg, Mama. - Erik was startled up to these words said by Mahtab. - We leave them time and help them get used to French habits and we can have mixed traditions as well.

\- Right! - Noel jumped up excitedly. - Please tell me more about your traditions, Tonton! - He pointed at the Daroga.

\- Not today. - The Persian shook his head with a small chuckle. - I think you all have to go to bed already.

There was something wrong with Erik the next few days as Christine noticed. She kept asking him if he felt well, and Erik assured her he was all right, but he seemed to be lost in his thoughts many times. Being lost in thoughts wouldn't have been such a problem in itself, but she feared it was a sign of a new seizure Erik was going to go through, if a "grand mal" was coming, it was always foreshadowed by smaller "absence" episodes, when Erik would blankly stare forward to nothing for a few seconds. Christine seriously hoped it wasn't going to happen, and she was about to ask Erik to cancel the trip to France, but on the day of the departure he woke up totally changed. He was happy, hopeful, and the earliest bird of the family in that morning.

\- Wake up, lazy group of children! Do you want to sleep until noon? Eh? Up, up, I said.

They were even more surprised he did not lose his endless optimism and good spirits on the way to the port to catch the ship, and he did not even give a damn about surely soon getting seasick, as always. He was cheerfully whistling an upbeat little tune, while carrying both his and Christine's suitcases.

\- What has gotten into you, Erik? - Christine laughed, not remembering when Erik was in such a great mood for the last time.

\- Things are getting back to the way as they should be. - He replied with a small content whistle at the end of the sentence.

\- I did not know you missed Paris so much.

\- Paris? Who cares about Paris? - Erik laughed out with a wave of his lesser occupied right hand.

\- I don't understand you then. - Christine's eyes widened in surprise.

\- You will, my sweet wife, you will. Soon enough.

Upon arriving to the dock, Mahtab suddenly noticed someone else standing there, already waiting for the departure, with luggage, so she… she did not just get out to say good bye to him… and he could not help but drop his belongings on the floor from surprise and happiness. Bonnie was waving happily at him and when they finally hugged, Mahtab could only ask:

\- Are you… really coming with us?

\- Yes! - Bonnie nodded happily. - Papa allowed me to go to Paris to study arts. They say I might become an artist. Just what I wanted! And we don't have to part!

\- Never… - Mahtab swallowed back some tears. - Never ever… but why didn't you tell?

\- I only got to know about it yesterday. It was a surprise for me too. The happiest surprise of my life.

\- Mine too.

After they finally composed themselves enough to rejoin the group, Lily, who was just feeling better from her earlier illness and anxiety, looked at Flo with a happy smile. She was a bit of nervous about the coming journey, but it was so good to see the other happy couple, and to hear how much Erik worked to make both of his older sons happy. Lily did not fear Erik any longer, especially since Erik was extremely kind towards her lately and asked regularly if she was safe and healthy.

\- You will like it in Paris, my love. - Flo reassured her. - I know you will.

\- I know I will love it with you. Wherever we are. Because I love you. - She replied smiling.

She was so thankful, looking at Flo, knowing she was finally home, and not treated any more just as a ballet girl who ruined her career with an early pregnancy. Thankfully the baby did not bother her. She did not know why Christine kept asking her if she had problems with her stomach. She never experienced such a thing.

The journey was pleasant for everyone but Erik, so he did not show up too often. Noel made a silly jokey remark about it is Lily who is pregnant and yet she isn't the one suffering from sickness, but he regretted it the next moment when Mahtab gave him a moderate wallop of educational purpose.

Nothing special was going on for the rest of the journey in France, up until Erik announced he had to take care of some business alone and asked the rest of the family to just go on with their journey, not to bother about him, and he was going to rejoin them once he arrives to Paris.

\- Where are you going? - Christine asked with worry.

\- Nowhere special. - Erik wasn't making sense yet again, and Christine did not like it.

\- Tell me a name of a place. - She demanded a reply.

\- Not important.

\- I don't know such a city, it is not on my map.

\- It is next to "I am not telling" and is located near "None of your business", my love.

\- Erik, I am not allowing you to wander like a vagabond. We need you at home.

\- Do I need your approval? - He snorted.

\- At least don't go alone. - She sighed, seeing he won't listen. - I am not comfortable knowing you are all alone at a place I don't even know the name of. What if you get ill?

\- Partly right. - Erik nodded. - But you are not coming, it is a surprise for mostly you.

\- Then take Mahtab. - Christine offered. - He is the oldest and…

\- And he is occupied by loving on his little lover, I am not comfortable separating them. Noel has yet no one, he can come.

\- Noel is yet too young.

\- He is 14. - Erik shrugged. - If I was old enough to live on my own at this age why can't he accompany an adult to a French city?

\- Please take care. - She hugged his shoulder.

\- You too. - Erik replied on a kinder voice. - All of you. You are very dear to me, and I love all of my family. Stay safe.

Noel was happy to go somewhere with Papa in private. He liked his big family, but some alone time with his father was always a good thing, especially that he admired Erik so much, and considered him as his role model. He will be a scientist when he grows up… or a magician… or both. Just like Papa. Finally Mahtab and Flo were old enough not to cling on Papa constantly. It is his turn! Looking at the boy so closely, sitting at the seat on the train facing him, Erik just realized how much Noel's features matured during these past months. The boy grew a lot again, meaning he reached up to his ear, and was lanky, blonde and his eyes were lighter blue than Christine's, with a shade of gray. Strange. In his early childhood they used to be darker blue, and his hair was darker blonde as well. Now he looked like his hair was white. Fading colors already? The boy was always pale, but completely healthy and vital, Erik assumed maybe he inherited some kind of skin condition from him, making the boy paler than average. Thank God it is not yellow at least.

And there came the thought which was bothering him about Lily's pregnancy… can a condition like his, be passed through two generations? How much is the chance of Lily's child, or coming children will look like him or Mahtab, passing on devil's little face through the family? Lily does not even know how they look in normal, she only saw them masked yet. What if she has to hold a small disfigured child after childbirth?

\- Where are we going, Papa? - Noel broke the silence between them, looking out of the train window.

\- Perros. - Erik replied shortly, just woken from his musings. - Thank you for coming, Noel.

\- I want to go with you. Anywhere. - He reassured.

\- Really? - Erik looked up in interest.

\- Yes. - Noel nodded. - I love you and would follow you around forever.

Noel suddenly fell silent, being surprised and startled by his sudden confession of his emotions, then went on:

\- Papa, why is that…. I want to say nice things to you all… mostly… but I only say cynical things?

\- This is just the way you are. - Erik patted his shoulder. - It is not a bad thing, I am like that mostly too, if you pay attention. It is hard for me to talk about what I feel. I guessed it was because of solitude, but it seems like it is rather my nature, and you inherited it from me. The only important thing is to follow your heart and try your best not to talk but act as you feel. If someone loves you enough they will know how you feel without you needing to tell them constantly.

\- So you knew I loved you even if I did not tell?

\- Of course I did. - Erik smiled. - Just as you sure know I love you.

Noel smiled widely and rubbed his palms together, which was his habit to convey endless cheer, he did that subconsciously since he was a baby. Such a child he is yet… Erik thought to himself. He wants to play the serious adult, but deep down in his heart he is just a little boy, seeking for love and attention. It isn't easy to be the youngest of the "own children" trio. Since his birth he had to fight for attention, competing Mahtab, and Florian. Two rivals at birth… not easy. He really has to spend more time with his youngest.

\- You see, I tell you what we are doing here. This journey is merely a spiritual one yet, to make sure I have the right thoughts and want to do the right solutions. - Erik started explaining the reason why they were on that train suddenly. - We are heading to Perros so that I can talk to your Grandfather.

\- But he is dead. - Noel scratched his ear in disbelief.

\- I know. - Erik nodded. - But I feel it as the right thing to do to ask him first.

\- But he can't reply.

\- I know you believe in only material issues, Noel, I used to be like that in your age, but believe me, as you age, you will find out you can't always explain things regarding only science.

\- I see. - Noel nodded with a shrug. Whatever Papa finds true, is true. Who is he to debate older people's life experiences? Maybe he can even learn by them.

\- I wanted to show you his grave already anyway. - Erik stated. - He was your Grandfather after all and you know how much he meant to Mama.

Visiting the graveyard was something strange for Noel. He imagined Papa will ask something out loud, and maybe he can hear something as a sign being sent their way, but Papa only stated.

\- I introduce you Noel. He was yet a baby when I visited you for the last time and I haven't shown him to you in person yet.

Noel, not exactly by his own will, did a small bow towards the grave, just as if he was really bowing towards the person he was introduced to.

Contrary to him being introduced so nicely and Papa spending an enormous amount of time at the grave, not another audible word left Papa's lips. He sometimes whispered or murmured something, but Noel could not catch a coherent word or sentence. Contrary to his usual short-tempered behavior, and getting bored easily, he did not start complaining or hurrying Papa to go on with whatever he was doing as fast as possible. He knew it was important to Papa for some reason, he was patient. He was trying to occupy his thoughts by reading the names engraved on the gravestones, and calculating how old were when they died. He was a bit of worried to see most of the people weren't as old as Papa at their final hours coming. 55,43,67,68,52,49,24… how can someone die at the age of 24? It was terrifying to consider he might die 10 years from now.

When Papa finally finished talking to the ghost of Papa Daaé, he seemed to be happy and relieved.

\- Come, dear. We may go now. Will you help me with my job here if you were so kind to accompany me?

\- Yes, Papa. Whatever needs to be done, I help with that.

\- You might help me with an idea as well. - Erik put his bony hand on Noel's shoulder. - As you see, we have two extra people to live with, with another one on the way, and we weren't a small group even before. The house is starting to be too small, so I will have to rearrange the house, but I am not young enough any more to work all alone, I need help from you and your brothers. I have some imaginations and plans, but I am curious of your opinion. How would you remodel the house? Or would you do an addition?

Noel was so happy to be finally treated as a grown up aid for Papa. And he looked at Erik with such a thankful expression the old man wanted to laugh or hug him right away.

\- Tell me what do you think first. - Noel replied. - Then I will tell my idea.

\- So, to tell you my version, I was about to say I could put walls in the huge childrens room to make it as three separate rooms: one for Mahtab and you, one for Greg and one for Belle. I did not even know why I thought such a huge room is needed for Mahtab when I built it, but it can make up to three smaller rooms. The problem is I can't make more rooms out of the room without them being absolute mouse holes, so Flo and Lily shall be put somewhere else. And we did not even speak about the child.

\- I think we won't kill each other in one room, Papa, we did not do it so far. All we need is more beds and that one room being rearranged. We could have bunk beds, so we don't have to sleep next to each other and it saves up space.

\- It is a good idea in itself, but Florian and Lily need a separate room with the baby, and well, it is not the most comfortable solution like this either. Don't forget you will grow older eventually and I am not sure a girl will want to share a bedroom with two boys. If you want to, you may have one shared bedroom with Greg, as you used to, but… why if we can make you an own room? Which of the rooms can be sacrificed, what you think? The guest room is for Tonton, as you know. We have a music room and my study to choose from, and that can be given to Flo and Lily.

\- Don't touch any of these, you don't have to. - Noel replied with calm, and nearly unimaginable logic.

\- And where shall I put three people then, with all their belongings? In the doghouse?

\- No. - Noel shook his head. - You forget about the attic.

\- Partly true, but… well I haven't wandered up there in ages. There are much rubbish up there. I have no strength to throw everything away.

\- You are not alone for that. - Noel replied with determination. - Mahtab already has a smaller corner up in the attic, he always hid there when he did not want us to pester him when he was working. All we need is just to separate a proper room for Mahtab, one for Flo and Lily and one for the baby to have an own room. I guess it needs it.

\- Yes, I have been thinking about this, but you see, walls have a nasty habit not to grow out of the floor magically, one has to build them. In older times I wouldn't have given it a second thought, but as I am aging I think through building or repairing things twice.

\- Who talked about you? - Noel shrugged. - Mahtab did receive architectural education from you in the past. And I am not stupid either, if I can say such a thing, without being too immodest, and I am sure we can work on it. If we aren't remodeling, adding to the house would need work anyway. We are here to help, and I guess Flo can help us with easier tasks. All you have to do is supervising us and give instructions if needed. There are three boys in great health and strength.

\- I keep forgetting you are growing up. I know it with my mind, but I always consider you as small children in my mind.

\- I know it is like that with parents. - Noel smiled. - But we can solve everything and help our parents. Up until now you took care of us. It is my turn now. So… I don't mind me having a shared room with Greg, and we could make up two rooms halving it, so Belle has an own room. Like this the rooms won't be too small, but Belle does not have to live with boys. The others will go up to the attic. And even the baby will have an own room.

\- It is fine by me if you help cleaning up the mess up there. I believe there are soldiers camping up there from back the Prussian war, no one telling them it had ended. - Erik chuckled.

\- Everything will be done, Papa. Done and organized up until Christmas. Is the baby coming on Christmas day like I did before? - Noel asked with excitement.

\- I don't exactly know, but it is due towards the end of December or the beginning of January, yes. - Erik nodded.

\- Do you think it is a boy?

\- It doesn't matter to me. - Erik sighed. - It shall only be healthy.

Tricking Noel into helping him with the construction was easier than he thought, Erik wondered contently. Noel is turning much more helpful as he is aging. Good, very good. To Noel's surprise, they did not go to catch the train to Paris. They were heading to an office, and Noel did not understand any of the issue. Erik only explained they were changing something, or at least they are finding traces.

If a name change request was filed in the city, it has to have some documentation laying around right here, and maybe they are lucky enough to find an original birth certificate of Christine, without needing to travel farther to the North.

Gods are merciful towards the old sinner: Christine's name change did have proper documentation, along with the documents of her adoption, and they were able to find an original birth certificate of Kristina Daaé, that being attached to the request of the name change.

Erik instantly knew what to do.

They stopped at various offices on the way home, and Noel did not understand anything of the issue any more, but he was sure it had to be done this way, and the only thing he was sure about he loved travelling slowly with Papa. They talked a lot, discussing scientific matters, bonding like father and son.

Christine was so relieved when they finally arrived home after 3 days, and was slightly annoyed, but did not ask anything, not wanting to argue right away. When they finally were in private with Erik, after the head of the family listed up his plans with the children and asked Mahtab to help his brothers to clean up the attic before they can start working on the house, Christine could not help any longer to ask Erik whatever he was doing with Noel for days.

Erik did not reply, only placed a small envelope on the end table at Christine's bedside.

She lifted it up curiously, tilting her head to the side, examining the envelope.

\- What is this?

\- Find it out, Kristina. - Erik answered, surprisingly in Swedish.

Her eyes grew wide of astonishment, and hurriedly opened the envelope which contained her birth certificate and a new identity paper, containing the name "Kristina Daaé" .

\- Erik…! - She gasped. - It is… it is…

\- It is you. - Erik nodded, not switching back to French, staying with Swedish.

\- But… but… I understand you changed my given name back to Swedish… but why did you change my maiden name back?

\- It is not your maiden name, sweet nose. - Erik reached into his pocket, handing Christine another identity paper, but this one was for a person named "Erik Amadé Daaé".

\- What the Hell…? - Christine gasped, but slapped her mouth for the profanity which left her lips out of sheer surprise.

\- I explain. - Erik sat down at the side of the bed. - Christine, I made a mistake, and only your story made me realize it. I used to think, at the first years of our wedding, you wore your maiden name because you did not want to have your monster husband's name…

\- Erik it is…

\- Not true, I know now. Let me finish, please. So, I made a mistake by making you abandon the last crumble of your identity which linked you to your heritage. You simply did not want to feel like being another person suddenly. Forgive Erik for that move, but he always saw wives wearing their husband's name, because it was society's habit. I did not consider the fact I did not even have a proper name to give you, and I had to make up one… instead of simply taking up yours.

\- Oh… but you… don't mind it?

\- How could I mind such a pure name, my love? I visited Father Daaé and asked him if he… approves… of my plan. - He admitted softly. - I felt like he did.

\- He is honored. - Christine dried her eyes, and hugged Erik's shoulder.

\- The children will receive their documents in a few weeks time. - Erik cleared his throat, not wanting to seem like he was crying, as he did.

\- You are the best husband I can ask for, Erik Daaé.

\- Erik… never had such a beautiful sounding name… he could not make up any which fit him so well and he would be so proud to wear.

From that day, Erik never called his wife Christine ever again, he rather used the name she received originally at birth: Kristina.


End file.
